


Super Soldiers Save the Day

by girlwithaplan



Series: The Avengers are Precious Sweethearts [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Bear - Freeform, Bucky is too, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone just likes to hug each other a lot, F/M, Fluff, Group Hugs, Hugging is the best way to deal with emotions, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Injuries, Multi, Naps with Steve Rogers, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Cuddling, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sleepy Cuddles, Steve Rogers isn't having any of your nonsense, Steve and Bucky are protective roommates and make everything better, Steve is emotional, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 63,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwithaplan/pseuds/girlwithaplan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader is a friend of Sam Wilson who, in turn, befriends Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. She eventually ends up living with the super soldiers and much cuddling, sweetness, and protectiveness occurs. She also befriends the Avengers, who help her when her life takes a bad turn. TONS OF FEELS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kicking your shoes off absentmindedly, you came into the apartment and dropped your keys on the table. Fighting back an avalanche of tears, you sat down on the couch and curled your knees under your chin. Why did that jerk of an ex-boyfriend have to call you? You'd had a messy breakup six months ago when he revealed he'd been cheating on you with his "much hotter" (his words) coworker. They'd been hooking up for years behind your back.

After you’d freaked out on him, yelling and crying, he'd kicked you out. You'd called the only people you trusted, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

~

You'd met the super soldiers through your friend, Sam Wilson. You spent some weekends volunteering at the VA with him and when those two gorgeous guys visited, Sam noticed how much you were blushing and introduced you. Steve was just as sweet and kind as you'd always heard, and Bucky was...well, Bucky. He looked like he could kill you, but was actually a huge flirt who was hands-on with everyone and no one seemed to mind, Steve least of all. They were tons of fun to be around and seemed to take to you immediately, probably due to Sam.

When you'd all four gone out to dinner that night, Bucky sat next to you and told you all kinds of stories about him, Steve, Sam and the rest of the Avengers. Sam lived in the opposite direction of your boyfriend’s place, so when you parted ways, Steve and Bucky insisted on walking you home. You guessed that 1940’s chivalry had still held on and you didn’t mind.

They asked about your boyfriend, and you answered with as little information as possible. Steve touched a bruise on your shoulder and you winced. Looking at each other knowingly, they didn't ask further. They did, however, take your phone and put their numbers in, making you promise to call if you needed anything. Steve had hugged you, which was everything you'd want from a super soldier hug: warm and solid and very, very safe. He'd whispered while hugging you, "Don't let him hurt you anymore. Please. Call me if he does." His voice turned serious at the last words and you'd nodded in agreement. Bucky had thrown an arm around your shoulder and pecked you on the cheek, leaning in to whisper in a deadly tone, "Say the word, and I will take care of it."You'd managed a smile and thanked them, heading inside for the night, happy to have made some friends. With the cold-shoulder your boyfriend had been giving you for awhile now, it was nice to hang out with some people who didn’t act like you were bothering them.

A few months later, you'd found out about your boyfriend's long affair. When you'd gotten upset, he'd slapped you across the face. You reeled and fell, banging your knee hard on the coffee table. When you tried to get up, he kicked you in the ribs and laughed when you struggled to get up. He made it clear that he never really loved you. He never cared. He was only with you because he felt sorry for you and needed a cover for sleeping with his secretary. You hurriedly packed a small bag and left, with him yelling at you how ugly and unlovable and unimportant you were.

It was late, after midnight, and you didn't have anywhere to go. You stood on the sidewalk a few blocks away sobbing and just beyond done with your whole situation. The tears on your cheek felt hot and searing against the bruise that would obviously form there. Then it dawned on you; you could call them. Hesitating because of the late hour, you tried to think through your actions. But you had nothing in the world. The thought of wandering the streets alone, crying and broken, or worse, trying to talk to the police had you calling Steve in a heartbeat.

He sounded fairly awake when he answered and after hearing you crying on the other end, sprung into action and yelled for Bucky. You got out, "We b-broke up. I don’t know what to d-do." Steve asked where you were, and then Bucky got on, trying to calm you down while they headed your way. "Bucky," you tried to explain but your breath kept hitching. Detecting your scared tone, he asked sternly, " What did he do?" "H-he hit me again." You whispered the last part as if your ex could hear you. The other side of the line went eerily silent. You sniffed and he said curtly, "Don't move from where you are. We’ll be there in a second."

Bucky grabbed your few belongings and tossed them into the car while Steve checked you over carefully. He gingerly touched the bruise forming on your cheek and you flinched. An expression that was a mixture of anger and sympathy crossed his face and he asked where else you’d been hurt. You pointed to your knee and he gently rolled up your sweatpants and gasped. Bucky dropped down to get a better look and glanced up at you, “There’s more isn’t there?” You closed your eyes and nodded, pulling up your shirt from the hem, exposing the gigantic bruise forming over your left ribcage. Metal fingers gently settled over your ribs, the cold touch actually refreshing on your skin.

You opened your eyes when you heard Bucky say something about wanting to go kill your ex, but Steve firmly rejected that idea, saying you were more important at the moment. Agreeing, Bucky pulled your shirt down and grabbed your hand, leading you to the car and sliding into the backseat with you. He slung an arm around you and gradually guided your head to lie down on his shoulder. You leaned into him, feeling the tiredness all over your body. Steve murmured something about buckling up for safety, but Bucky’s glare shut him up.

Once you were in their apartment, you told them everything. Bucky kept his arm around you loosely and Steve sat across the room on the edge of an armchair. When you ended it with the things he yelled at you as you left, Steve's eyes went wide and Bucky got up to pace the room. Kneeling down in front of you, Steve cupped your face in his hands and made you look at him. With a serious expression he said, "Not a word of that is true. Not. One. Word." When you didn't respond he continued, "You are beautiful and smart and you deserve much better than him. You are wonderful. Just absolutely gorgeous and worth so much. Especially to us."

"Damn right she is." Bucky said from across the room. Overwhelmed with all their kindness and the hellish night you'd had, you started to cry again. Steve wrapped you up in his arms and picked you up bridal-style, murmuring something to Bucky. You were too upset to look where you were going, choosing instead to hide your face in Steve’s chest. He sat down, still holding you, and you could hear Bucky's voice saying something about needing sleep. Steve laid you down carefully in the middle of a big bed, and you whimpered from the loss of contact. Embarrassed by your own neediness, you turned to bury your face in the pillow. _I don’t deserve this_ , you thought. _They’re too nice. I’m a worthless nobody who’s boyfriend cheated on her._ You had a habit of talking to yourself, so, unbeknownst to you, those thoughts were being said out loud.

A few minutes passed until you felt someone lay down behind you. A warm hand gently maneuvered you, turning you so you were facing the side instead of down into the mattress. A cool metal hand brushed your hair back from your forehead and stroked it softly. The warm arm wound around your waist below your bruised ribs and pulled you close. Bucky kissed the back of your head and said with a firm but sweet voice, "Stop. Stop saying those things about yourself. Stevie's right. All of that stuff that guy said to you isn't true. You're incredible. And prettier than any girl I've ever seen. Don't think that stuff. Please." You could only manage to nod your head in response. He moved your hair to one side and nuzzled your neck with his nose, uttering soft reassurances into your ear.

You finally started to relax a little when a body dropped down on the bed on your other side. Peering up through your eyelashes, you saw Steve getting settled down before turning to face you. He smiled at you and wrapped an arm over you and Bucky, yanking you both closer. Bucky mumbled, "Manhandle us a little more there, Captain." You chuckled, and then blushed when Steve replied with faux indignation, "I thought you liked it when I took charge." He pulled his arm back to drape it around your hip, right below where Bucky's arm gripped you. His fingers drew circles in your lower back while the other hand cupped your face, running his thumb across your cheek.

Taking a cue from Steve, Bucky's metal started stroking your hair again, while the other palm spread gently over your bruised ribs, massaging soothingly. You could feel the tension easing from your body with their caring touches. Apparently unable to resist manhandling one more time, Steve wrapped his leg around yours and Bucky's. He was strong enough to push you all together firmly, but not painfully. This time, not even Bucky complained. Steve looked in your eyes and said with concern, “Feeling better?” The corners of your mouth turned up into a small smile, “Much better.” Even though you knew you'd have to face your problems and fears eventually, for the rest of the night you could just feel wanted and cared for and protected. You wanted to say something, but eyelids started to feel heavy and all you could manage was a weak, "Thank you." Steve leaned in to kiss your forehead before you let your eyes drift shut. You weren’t sure how they managed to be so soft and comforting while simultaneously bracketing you in snugly with their solid warmth. You sighed contentedly and allowed yourself to fall asleep, feeling safer than you’d felt in years.

~

Memories of the past few months flooded into your mind, making you smile despite the pit in your stomach. After your break-up cuddle pile, a phenomenon named by Steve, they'd insisted you move in. Since your ex had gotten you your current job, you couldn't make yourself go back. They'd come home a few days later with huge grins and a job offer from none other than Tony Stark. He and Bruce Banner needed a lab assistant badly and your degree in biomechanics came in handy. Tony was paying you much more than an average lab assistant and you knew that was partially because he could and partially because of Bucky's...persuasion.

Life had been good with those two. They merged you into their daily routine seamlessly and were always close by if you needed anything. They hugged you, held you when you cried, and let you snuggle between them after a long day. Steve always let you lay your head on his shoulder when you were tired, and Bucky played with your hair when you had a headache. You all ended up in their bed at least a couple nights a week for lots of reasons: Steve wanted to make sure you weren't lonely, Bucky needed a human teddy bear that was actually smaller than him, and you even asked for it a few times. They doted on you, and even though you weren’t quite sure what to do with so much affection, it was a welcome change of pace.

Then the fateful phone call had happened on your way home from the lab three months later. Tony had left for a meeting and Bruce was going to be in the lab overnight, so he waved you off and told you to take an early day. You thought about waiting to catch a ride back with Steve, but he was in a meeting and Bucky had shown up, so no room on the bike for you. Since it was nice out, you decide to walk the few miles back to the apartment. When your phone buzzed in your pocket, you answered it without looking. "Hello?" you said brightly. "Miss me?" questioned a male voice on the other end of the line. You stopped in your tracks. Paralyzed by your ex's snarling voice, you listened as he told you that he still had some of your stuff. He'd apparently tried to contact you to give it back, but had been threatened by a man wearing all black one night while taking out the trash. _Thank goodness for Bucky_ , you thought. He'd also tried to find out where you worked only to be stopped on his morning run by a muscular blonde who told him not to try looking for you again. _I've gotta thank them later_.

"So what do you want?" You snapped, growing impatient. "Remember, dear, how you always wanted a family, but I said no? Even to a puppy?" He replied. He apparently took your silence for a yes and kept going, "Well my girlfriend is pregnant, with twins! We couldn’t happier. Oh and we're getting a dog, too." You knew you shouldn't care about this man's life, but you did. You'd been with him for three years before you broke up. You'd talked about your futures and he'd always been dismissing, but you just thought he wasn't ready. Obviously he was ready, with another woman.

"Oh and I talked to your Dad the other day," you felt your ears growing hot as you realized the real reason he called you. Your ex hadn't been the first man to lay a hand on you, and he knew it. He knew what your dad had done to you as a kid and how traumatizing that had been for you. Eventually, you’d gotten away from your dad and never looked back. Of course, that idiot contacted him. They were so similar it was scary. "He's going to be our babies' grandpa! Isn't that wonderful? I've got the life you always wanted, but can't have." You were about to hang up when he continued, “Your dad, huh? What a guy. Kicked you around like the pathetic little girl you are? Poor, poor thing. He just wanted a son, but he got you instead. And I just wanted a good little girlfriend and instead I got a worthless, ugly bitch like you. No one could ever really love you anyway. You know that, don’t you?"

You’d hung up and jogged the rest of the way to the apartment. Rehashing the afternoon’s events had you picking up the phone to text Steve, but you soon realized he was still in that meeting. Normally you’d text him instead of Bucky because the latter tended to react very quickly and sometimes violently. But you didn't care if he ripped someone's head off, so you shot off a message you hoped came off nonchalant.

_You: Are you coming home soon?_

_Bucky: I thought you were in the lab with Bruce._

_You: He let me go early._

_Bucky: We were talking about having dinner at the tower once Tony gets back. Want to do that? I'll come get you._

You didn't respond right away, so Bucky got worried.

_Bucky: Is everything all right?_

When you didn't respond again, your phone rang and you made sure to check it was this time. As you expected, it was Bucky. He sounded concerned, "Honey, what's the matter?" A little pitiful cry escaped your lips as you were trying to stave off more tears.

His tone changed from worried to incensed, "What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" You took a breath and answered him, "No. I'm not hurt." Your voice cracked a little, "It's him." Bucky knew instantly who you were referring to, "The evil ex-boyfriend? The one I wanted to kill?" You sniffed, "Yeah." Bucky was clearly angry but trying to keep his voice calm, "What did he want?" "He, I," you started to cry and choked on the words, "He's got my stuff and he's having a baby and he talked to my Dad. My dad, Bucky!" You hadn't told your new roommates much about your childhood, but your desperate tone gave away that something was very, very wrong. He listened silently and barked something at someone across the room. "Ask Sam." you mumbled into the phone. Bucky heard that.

You heard him yell, "Wilson!” and then turn back to the phone and say, "Listen, you got to talk to Stevie for a second." The phone crackled and you heard Steve's voice on the other end, "Hey. Hey. It's going to be fine. Soon as Bucky gets done talking to Sam, we're coming home." "Okay," You whimpered, trying (and failing) to compose yourself. Steve kept talking to try and calm you down. After a few minutes, he handed the phone to Bucky. "I'm going to make that guy sorry he was born," he practically growled into the phone. Not knowing what else to say, you stayed silent. Bucky's voice was still edgy, but softer, "Still with me, gorgeous?" Still unable to find your voice, you responded with a small, "mhmm." He sighed, "Okay, we're leaving. Stay put till we get there."

They came into the apartment quietly. There was a short, whispered conversation before Steve came over, kissed your forehead, and disappeared into another room. You heard him start a phone call and instantly felt bad for interrupting his work. You didn't have time to get too worried, though, because you suddenly had a lapful of Bucky.

He wiped away your still-falling tears with his flesh hand, then moved his metal hand up to push your hair behind your ears and thread his fingers through it. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, indicating his weight concentrated in your lap. Chuckling half-heartedly, you shook your head no. You tried to lean your throbbing head forward, but he held you back by your shoulders. "You gotta tell me what happened. When Steve's done, I'll fill him in on what he missed." You took a shallow breath and told him the whole conversation. He removed his metal hand from your hair so he could make fists to quell the fury you could feel radiating from him. You glossed over your dad's abuse, and he nodded where he'd heard details from Sam. When you finished, you were crying hard and this time, he let you come forward and wrapped his flesh hand around to hold your head and consolingly massage your scalp.

Steve had re-entered for the part about your dad and looked like he himself might cry. Bucky filled him in on the rest of the story while you hid your face in his shoulder and wept. He had to pause a few times to quiet you with his voice, “Shh. Shh. It’s okay.” When he finished, you’d stopped crying and raised your head up to look at him. Untangling his hand from your hair, he asked, "Where does that bastard live?” "Same place as before," you answered. He heaved himself up off your lap and made a beeline for the door. You called after him, "Bucky?" He called over his shoulder, "Yeah?" "Don't kill him. That baby doesn't deserve that." Your tone was pleading. He nodded briskly and disappeared.

You stood up and Steve made a move to stop you, but you assured him you would be right back. After taking several deep breaths and splashing cool water on your face, you headed back to Steve, no idea what to expect. Would he be crying? Would he want you to talk? When you cautiously turned the corner into the living room, Steve was sitting on the edge of the couch, waiting, staring at the rug as if it could help somehow. Without looking up, he said, "I'm so sorry. I, I don't know what else to say except I am so, so sorry." You knew what he meant. He looked up, held his arms open to you with a soft, "Come here."

You ended up with your arms loosely around his neck, head on his shoulder. He had one arm around your back and the other under your knees, holding you as securely as he could. You leaned on him heavily, knowing he could handle the weight. Neither of you spoke for a time, though your hitched breaths from all the sobs you couldn't cry seemed deafening in the silence. Eventually, you shuffled down so you could turn into him and bury your face in his chest, slipping your arms around his torso. Once you got settled, he gripped you tightly in his arms and repeated, “I've got you.” “You’re safe.” “I'm right here." You listened to his steady, strong heartbeat and tried to match his calm, even breaths.

Here in Steve’s arms, you felt shielded from the outside world. You felt taken care of and wanted. This is what home is supposed to feel like, you thought. It was the first real sense of home you'd ever had. You belonged here and they valued you. All the muscles in your body felt relaxed. Except your stomach, which chose this tender moment to remind you that you hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Steve laughed and rested his chin on your head. "Hungry?" he asked. Nodding you responded, "Yeah I guess so." He readjusted his hold so you’d know he still had you before he said quietly, "I've got a solution for that, but you have to promise to hear me out." You nodded again, making no attempts to move away from his cradling embrace. He said, "I told Bucky to call Sam and fill him in on the way and he must've because I just got a text. Tony's back from his conference, Bruce is willing to take a break, Sam is staying at the Tower tonight, and so is Clint." You tensed a bit at the thought of all those people and Steve rubbed your back before he continued, "They all know what happened. They all love you and want to kill your ex. Especially Tony." You laughed. "So they're ordering a bunch of food and buying ice cream and want us to come over and eat. It'd be a good idea for you to be around people who support you. But, I won't make you do anything. Only if you want to."

You considered for a moment, but you knew Steve was right. "Okay. I'll go." He tried to get up, but you stopped him, "Can you just hold me for a few more minutes before we leave?” You felt a little childish, but you were pretty sure he’d indulge you. You could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, "Of course."

"Steve?" your voice sounded cracked and dry, but you just had to express something before you lost your nerve. "Hmm?" his chest rumbled in response. "I, umm, I'm not sure exactly how to say this so I'm just gonna go for it." Words threatened to spill out of you before you could catch them. You could feel his head nod, so you took a shaky breath and dove in, "I love you. And I love Bucky, too. I'm so glad you took me in. Thank you."

He squeezed you so tightly you could barely breathe, but you didn't care. "I love you, too. So does Bucky. I don't know what we'd do without our best girl."

After a few more minutes of him cuddling you, Steve's phone went off. "It's Tony. I'll tell him we're leaving, okay?" You sighed, "Okay." You sat yourself back up and smiled at him and he grinned at you, "There's the smile. I missed it." You giggled and untangled yourself from his arms. Steve handed you Bucky's sweatshirt, knowing it was cold out. Once you had it on, you took a deep whiff of the fabric, Bucky’s musty scent soothing on your frayed nerves. He winked knowingly at you and you rolled your eyes. “You’re such a sap, Rogers”, you teased.

Together, you locked up the apartment and headed down to get on his bike. You pulled the hood of the sweatshirt up over your head and scooted up to nestle into Steve's broad back. Normally, he’d insist that you wear a helmet, but today he let it slide, considering your sensitive state.

Once you arrived at the tower and met up with the guys in the shared kitchen, Sam practically vaulted over the counter to get to you. "Are you okay? Not hurt?" You shook your head no, not hurt. Clint signed, "I will kill for you" and you snorted and signed back "thanks but not today" He smirked. You sat down on a stool next to Bruce while Tony and Steve argued over how much to tip the delivery people. He turned to you and whispered, "I'm sorry it was such a bad day. I understand." You smiled and patted his hand. Bruce really got a lot of your life, now that you thought of it.

Tony re-entered with tons of food and laid it all out. At some point, Bucky had returned with no signs of a fight other than his tired expression. He was standing by the door, whispering to Steve and Clint about what happened, and you honestly didn't care as long as Bucky was okay. Tony thrust a glass of wine into your hand and you took it because why not? You didn't drink often, but today seemed like a good wine day. He rapped on his glass like he was about to give a wedding toast, and then loudly announced, "Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, and myself would like to welcome a new member of the 'Our Dads Were Assholes' club!" He gestured at you and you could see Bucky and Steve, frozen and waiting for your reaction. You decided that was a club you could get behind. You raised your glass, smiled broadly, and clinked it against Tony's.

"Let us eat!" He proclaimed as if they needed an invitation. Those men fell on the food like vultures. You were content to wait awhile when Tony pulled a smaller foam container out from the pile and handed it to you, looking entirely too pleased with himself. You opened it to reveal the three-cheese ravioli you were in love with from the super-expensive Italian restaurant down the street. As far as you knew, they didn't do take out. You raised your eyebrows at Tony. He shrugged and said, "I'm Tony Stark. If you want it, I'll get it." You blew him a kiss and he caught it, clutching it to his chest like the big goofball he was.

Steve called you over to sit on the love seat between him and Bucky. Well, it was less like sitting more like getting fondly crushed between two rock-solid walls of muscle, but who could complain about that? You only had the stomach for the ravioli and one bowl of ice cream, but you were plenty satisfied.

When you came back from the kitchen, Bucky pulled you onto his lap without a word and rested his head between your shoulder blades. Sam and Clint were telling some outrageous story, but neither of you were paying attention. Bucky muttered something and you turned your head to try to hear better. He placed his chin on your shoulder then said, "He won't bother you ever again." You sighed in relief, "Thank you." There was a pause before he whispered in your ear, "I heard you love me." You huffed through your nose and whispered back, "Yeah. I do. I love you and Steve and our little family." You gestured to the room. "I love you too," he replied before adding, "I like the family as long as me and Steve are always your favorites. The rest can be your weird cousins we just have to deal with." Smiling, you agreed, "Deal." He pulled you in closer and kissed the back of your head when a realization dawned on him, "Is this my sweatshirt?"

Back at home; you all fell into bed together after putting on your comfiest pajamas. You and Steve agreed without saying anything that Bucky needed to be in the middle tonight, so once he flopped into the bed you curled into his side, combing your fingers through his long hair and resting a hand protectively over his chest. Steve spooned him and reached his left arm above Bucky's head just to touch you, so you were all connected. "You two sure know how to make a guy feel special." Bucky was trying to sound witty, but his words were slurring into a sleepy mess. He snaked his arm around you to trace your spine with his flesh fingers, drumming lightly. Steve's hand brushed your cheek and you leaned into it.

"I love you guys," you whispered, even though they knew. "I love you too!" Steve shot back enthusiastically. Bucky waited a beat before adding, "Love ya both. Now please, can we sleep?" That was a request you were more than eager to oblige.


	2. Super Soldiers Recover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader wakes up after being abducted to find out that Bucky's been injured and Steve's on the edge of a meltdown. Much fluff and lots of hugs.

When you woke up, the lights above you were blinding. After your eyes adjusted, you could see the stale, white walls around you and hear the soft beeping of monitors nearby. With a sick feeling, you realized you had needles in your arms. Your quickened breathing must've set something off because a monitor beeped loudly near you. _Please, please let me be in Avengers Tower_ , you thought. You could feel yourself hyperventilating a little and it made the beeping worse.

When no one came to check on you, you willed your breath to slow. Upon calming down, a wave of pain washed over your body. Your back felt like it was sizzling and very tender, you neck was sore, and you must've broken a finger because two were splinted together on your left hand and throbbing. You felt hot tears well up from the discomfort and confusion, but you pushed them down as much as you could. More than anything, you wanted to go home. To find out if your boys were okay. Your hands started to shake and then you _remembered_. A few days prior, you'd been kidnapped by your sadistic father. Once he tracked you down, he came after you with a vengeance. On your way to the lab one day, you’d been ambushed and taken by a group of men you didn’t recognize. They beat you up and delivered you over to your father. When you tried to fight back, he’d burned you with something…that part was fuzzy so you couldn’t quite remember what he’d used. He said horrible, terrible, untrue things that got into your subconscious and crawled around, haunting you. He told you that no matter how much you cried out, your heroes weren't coming for you. Steve and Bucky were out of the country on a mission when you'd been abducted, but he hadn't counted on Iron Man and Hawkeye coming to your rescue . They were keeping an eye on you while your soldiers were gone. You'd only been with your father for a little over 24 hours when they found you, distressed and damaged, but very much alive. Clint had paralyzed your dad with some kind of taser-arrow hybrid while Tony flew you back to the tower. Bruce was waiting in the medical bay. He worked carefully on fixing you up, so Tony had the glorious job of contacting Steve and Bucky.

You could only imagine how that call went.

Now that you'd realized what happened, a few tears slipped out involuntarily. Jarvis noticed and spoke up to inform you that he'd called Dr. Banner and Captain Rogers to your room. You looked to the chair beside the bed and realized Steve must've been there before. He'd left a little pile of clothes for you (sweatpants, your favorite t-shirt, and Bucky's hoodie) and had been reading Anna Karenina, apparently. There were no signs of Bucky, however, and you wondered why Jarvis hadn't mentioned him, so you asked, “Jarvis, where is James?” Before the AI could answer, Steve burst in and Bruce followed closely behind. Steve came right to your side and grabbed your hand and stated with awe, “You’re awake!” You smiled cautiously and felt more tears trickle down your cheeks. His vivid blue eyes scanned your face rapidly before he said, “What’s wrong, sweetie? Are you in pain?” Words wouldn’t come out, so you nodded and visibly stiffened as another swell of hurt spread across your back. He reached out and smoothed your hair back from your forehead, tucking it behind your ear. “Is it your lower back?” Bruce asked, appearing suddenly at the monitor to your right and tapping on the screen. “Yes,” you croaked out, voice uneven from lack of use. Steve’s eyes went from you to Bruce and back again, looking helpless. Bruce continued, “Your vitals are excellent, so once we get these IVs out, I’ll get Steve to help sit you up and check on your burns. Tony brought some ointment he uses when the repulsors get him, so it should be very effective on your wounds.” You shuddered, but anything had to be better than the agony you were experiencing, so you agreed.

Carefully, Bruce plucked the needles out of your arms while Steve helped you to a seated position. A small laugh escaped your lips when you realized you were wearing a Black Sabbath shirt, obviously belonging to Tony. “Steve,” Bruce spoke up, “you need to get that shirt off of her, but try not to let the fabric rub her too much, especially her lower back. That’s where most of the burns are concentrated.” He looked at you and apologized, “I’m so sorry if this hurts.” Slowly, he lifted the shirt up by the hem and so far, so good. When you raised your arms to help him, however, your whole body jerked in a sudden spasm of gut-wrenching pain. It took all of your willpower not to scream and the shirt was gone completely in a flash. You were about to lower your arms when Bruce caught them, holding them in an agonizingly painful position straight up in the air. Steve looked ready to either kill someone or burst into tears. You forced yourself to suck in a sharp breath, barely held-in sobs wracking your shoulders. “I know it hurts,” Bruce said calmly, “but we need to hold your arms up to give the muscles and skin time to adjust to the trauma. After a few minutes, we’ll lower them, I promise. But it’ll give you a bigger range of motion.” You took another excruciating breath and squeaked out an, “Okay.” Bruce turned his head to Steve, “Grab the glass bottle and the cotton pads from the table. Set them on the far end of the bed and take my place so I can administer the medicine.” The captain did as he was told and was soon holding your wrists up in his big hands. Bruce gingerly touched your back with his skilled hands, “Good, good. They look much better than they did when you came back. This is a very positive sign.” Despite Bruce’s encouragements, all you could feel was a sharp, focused stinging. You stretched your fingers to try and grasp Steve’s hand, arm; whatever to take some of the pressure off, but you couldn’t quite get there. Noticing your struggle, Steve laced his fingers through yours and said, “You’re doing great.”

Without warning, Bruce started applying the ointment and a tremor rippled through you as you tried to suppress another scream. “Please,” Bruce pleaded, voice gentle as always,” Try to stay still and it’ll be over faster. Take a deep breath and hold it as long as you can, I’ll move quickly, I swear.” You locked your eyes on Steve, who nodded solemnly at you while you took a deep breath and held it, squeezing the life out of his fingers while Bruce’s experienced hands worked deftly at soothing your burns. You kept your eyes on Steve, who mouthed, “You got this,” and looked at you with such kindheartedness that you believed him. “Done!” Bruce proclaimed, putting the lid back on the bottle and reaching for a fresh set of bandages. You let out a long exhale and tears of relief slipped down your cheeks. “Alright, Steve, you can lower her arms back down, the numbing agent should kick in any second now.” Before your arms were even back to your sides, the pain gave way to icy cold relief. Your lips trembled with the sudden change in temperature, but you no longer felt the urge to cry out. Somehow, you felt even colder as Bruce carefully wrapped bandages around your midsection, explaining, “The only real side-effect of the treatment is that it lowers your body temperature to encourage faster healing. You’ll be very cold for a few days while the medicine works, but it shouldn’t hurt anymore.”

Steve had retreated to the armchair, face in his hands, while Bruce finished up. You found your voice and said with more confidence than before, “Steve? Are you okay?” He nodded, but didn’t look up. You suspected he was feeling overwhelmed. Bruce appeared in front of you and pulled the shirt Steve had brought over your head. “There you go! All done. Honestly, you’ve done very well. You’re much stronger than I realized.” He smiled at you and patted your shoulder briefly before turning to kneel in front of Steve. “She’s fine, Steve,” he started, voice low, “Her injuries are healing very well. She’s good to go whenever you want to leave.” Steve composed himself and looked up, nodding at Bruce’s words. “Although,” he continued, “I’d suggest staying here for a few days. Just in case.” Steve’s big sapphire eyes were rimmed red, but light was coming back into them. “Thank you, Dr. Banner,” he said, shaking Bruce’s hand. As he made his way toward the door, you said, “Bruce?” he turned, “Thank you. For everything.” He smiled again and left the room.

Suddenly, you were very aware that you weren’t wearing pants. And Bruce wasn’t kidding about the chill, you felt like ice was running through your veins. You reached out and grabbed the sweatpants and sweatshirt, shucking them on quickly, turning your attention back to Steve, who, gentleman that he was, looked away while you were getting dressed. You felt bad for making someone as generous as he was upset, so you tried to apologize with a small, quiet, “I’m sorry.” Steve’s head snapped back to face you and he asked, “Why?” You shrugged and tried again, “I didn’t mean to make you so upset.” He was kneeling in front of you in a second, cupping your face in his hands. “No, no, no. That’s not, you didn’t do anything wrong, baby girl. Nothing at all.” You raised your eyes up to meet his before he continued, “I’m upset because you got hurt. And I wasn’t here to protect you. I’m the one who should be sorry.” You shook your head no vigorously and threw your arms around his shoulders, unable to hold yourself together much longer. He put his hands on your sides tentatively, unsure of where to go without hurting you. “It’s okay, Steve,” you said, “I can’t feel them.” He still looked uncertain. “Steve,” your voiced cracked a little as you spoke. You could feel yourself starting to panic from all the morning’s events and just wanted to feel something, anything remotely safe or familiar. And there was nothing safer than Steve Rogers’ arms.

Finding your voice again you begged, “Please, Steve.” You started sobbing against his shoulder, gasping for air and trembling. Finally, he enveloped you in his arms; lifting you up and carrying you to the chair. He sat down and you wrapped your legs around him, clinging to him desperately. You could feel your own shoulder getting wet with his tears and you pressed yourself closer, feeling slightly less panicked when you breathed in a scent that couldn’t be anything but Steve. He held you for a long time while you came back down from your hysteria, breath hitching even when your pulse had slowed back to normal. You pulled back to look at him and smiled feebly. He returned the smile and pressed your foreheads together, whispering, “I’m so glad you’re safe. We were so worried. We got out of there as fast as we could, but it was complicated.”

You sat back a little on his lap and squinted your eyes before asking, “Speaking of we, where’s Bucky?” When he hesitated, your eyes went wide. “Is he okay? Is he hurt?” Steve rubbed up and down your arms comfortingly before responding, “He’s here. But he is kinda hurt.” You gasped and felt like you might vomit. Trying to ease your anxiety, Steve quickly explained, “When we were being extracted from the mission to come to you, something mangled Bucky’s metal arm. It was twisted and crumpled and he was in a lot of pain.” You felt like your eyes might bulge out of your head from disbelief. “But he’s doing better now. We had to sedate him to get the metal straightened back out. He’s awake now, but Tony’s working on repairing the inner mechanics. It’s a slow process, but Tony’s very capable.” You bit your lip to keep it from quivering. Bucky was hurt. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Steve pulled you back into his chest and held you tightly, saying, “Shh. Shh. He’s okay. I promise, he’s gonna be just fine. Don’t get all worked up again, okay?” You slid your arms around his middle, trying to anchor yourself enough to calm down. “Jarvis?” Steve spoke up, looking at the ceiling,

“How’s Bucky doing?” Jarvis chirped back immediately, “He is doing well, Captain. The majority of the repairs are complete. Mr. Stark estimates his surgery to end in two hours.” You breathed out a sigh of relief and Steve kissed the top of your head. “Mr. Stark said to remind you that rest is important for, these are his words, ‘traumatized lab assistants and weepy super soldiers’.” Steve huffed in protest, causing you to giggle at his expression. “Sergeant Barnes seconded his statement and requested to video conference with you after watching this room’s feed for the past several minutes.” “Does that mean,” you started and Steve finished, “Jarvis were Bucky and Tony watching just now?” Jarvis affirmed the assumption and you hid your face in Steve’s chest in embarrassment. He stroked a hand through your hair and laughed incredulously.

A holographic screen appeared behind you, showing Bucky’s face. Steve pulled it to the side so you could see it without getting up. Bucky looked agitated at something off-screen, but otherwise unscathed. He addressed you and Steve, “Guys, guys. You gotta calm down. Seriously. I’m about to throw Stark across the room and run down there. You’re breakin’ my heart.” Bucky rolled his eyes at something Tony said in protest and you couldn’t help but look up. Steve seemed to relax under you. Bucky was evidently waiting for you to look up because he nearly shouted when he saw your face, “There she is! Hey there, beautiful. I’m fine, okay?” Steve grunted in mock protest and Bucky assured him, “You’re pretty too, Stevie. Just less injured and fragile at the moment.” You wished for all the world he was in here with you right now and you had a feeling Steve did too.

He continued resolutely, “Sure the arm’s a little screwed up, but I’ll be good as new by tonight. Stark wants me to stay in here for a few hours after he’s done to run diagnostics.” He turned serious and turned his attention to Steve, “Listen, Stevie, you need to get some rest. You too, doll.” His face softened as he finished, “So glad you’re okay. Banner says you’re braver than Stark when he burns his arm, but I don’t know if that’s saying a lot.” You giggled and Steve chuckled, much to Tony’s dismay on the other end. Bucky swore at him to shut up and kept talking, “Don’t worry your pretty little heads about me; I’ll be fixed up soon. If you don’t both get some sleep, though, I’ll come after you, Steve, with my new-and-improved-arm and beat you.” He paused before looking at Steve solemnly, “I love you, punk.” His eyes flickered down, “You too, gorgeous.” Steve muttered, “jerk” under his breath as the screen went black.

“You heard him, we need to go sleep this off.” Steve smiled down at you, pushing your hair back again. You hesitated, unsure if you could actually stand since you hadn’t tried yet. “What is it?” Steve cocked an eyebrow at you in question. “I feel really weak,” you confessed, “Not sure if I can make it up to your floor.” “Are you asking me to carry you?” Steve tilted his head and winked at you. “Do you mind?” He shook his head and laughed, “Not at all. It’s my pleasure.” He scooted to the edge of the chair and you locked your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. One strong arm went under your legs and bum, supporting your weight. The other held your shoulders protectively. “Is this okay?” he asked as he made his way to the door, “You comfortable?” You fitted your head in the side of his neck and mumbled, “Perfect.” The hand on your back rubbed up and down reassuringly. “Good ‘cause it’s a little bit of a walk. Close your eyes. I got you.”

As you two made your way down the hallways of the Tower, you could hear people talking around you. You heard your name a few times and buried your face further into Steve’s neck, wishing the voices would go away. A familiar voice barked orders at the people around you and many pairs of feet shuffled off in different directions. You tried to lift your head up, but Steve held it in place with a gentle hand. “It’s okay, baby girl. It’s just Clint.” Another hand patted the side of your head briefly and you relaxed back into Steve’s embrace. Elevator doors opened and closed and you were on your way to the private floors. Steve stepped out on his and Bucky’s shared floor and said something to Clint who responded with a grunt.

“Captain?” Jarvis’ voice made the both of you jump. “Dr. Banner said to remind you that though she can’t feel her burns, they don’t need to bear her full weight for a few hours while the medication works. Make sure she sleeps on her stomach.” Steve kicked off his shoes and responded, “Will do, Jarvis. Thanks.” You were unbelievably sleepy, but felt the need to ask, “How do I make sure I stay on my stomach? Won’t I just roll over in my sleep?” Steve considered, then the solution seemed obvious. “Just sleep on me. I’ll make sure you don’t go anywhere.” The thought of napping on Steve was enticing, but you worried he’d stay up watching you and not sleep himself. “What if we sleep on the couch?” you asked tentatively. “I know it’s not as soft as your bed, but it’ll be easier for you to rest if I literally cannot roll off.” “Sounds like a plan to me,” he agreed, making his way over to the couch, still carrying you. It took some shuffling, but you both settled on the couch. You stretched out on top of Steve, head on his chest and sighed, more cozy than you’d ever thought possible. Jarvis dimmed the lights while Steve’s hand drew patterns lazily in between your shoulder blades. He, too, was fading fast. You reached a hand up and carded your fingers through his hair, feeling him melt away under you and drift off almost instantly.

While you were tired, you wanted to watch him for a moment and then an idea occurred to you. “Jarvis?” you whispered. “Yes ma’am?” the A.I. responded, matching your tone. “Can you take a picture and send it to James? To let him know we’re okay and I’m taking care of Steve.” “Of course, miss.” You lifted your head up slightly and twisted around to the ceiling, making the thumbs up gesture with the hand not tangled in Steve’s hair. A shutter clicked and you settled back down on Steve, careful not to rouse him. You used your free hand to trace his cheekbones softly, smiling fondly at his sleepy puppy expression. No telling how much rest he got while both you and Bucky were out. You were suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Tony and Clint saved you, Bruce patched you up, Steve stayed by your side without rest after a mission, and poor Bucky was injured trying to get to you. Implausibly, you felt more tears welling up in your eyes. How much can one person cry in a day? You felt frustrated, which just encouraged the tears to fall. Thankfully, you weren’t too terribly upset, so you were able to cry silently.

Unfortunately, the patch of wetness growing on Steve’s sternum woke him up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” he asked in a half-asleep drawl, scratching at your scalp lightly. You sniffled and answered with a faint, “Nothing,” that even you didn’t believe. “C’mon now. Tell me what’s making you upset.” He moved his hand from your hair to your forehead, tenderly massaging your temples. “I’m not upset, it’s just that everyone’s done so much for me lately and I don’t do that much for anyone. I’m not really worth all this trouble.” Your breath hitched a few times as you collected yourself, but he didn’t say anything. A few minutes of silence passed and you thought he might’ve fallen back asleep when he spoke up quietly, “You want to know something?” Intrigued, you bobbed your head yes.

“The most scared I’ve been in the past year was when Tony called to say you’d been kidnapped. I don’t remember the last time I felt my stomach drop like it did three days ago. And I know Bucky felt the same way because his eyes went from mission-focused to stone-cold murderer instantly. We want you to be safe because you’re you. You’re our closest friend, our best girl. You trusted us with the biggest letdown of your life and that meant the world to us. The fact that you feel safe with us is a huge honor that I don’t carry lightly. Bucky and I don’t let just anyone come into our lives, do we?” You shook your head no, feeling partly ridiculous for asking but mostly deeply touched at his words. You placed your head back on his chest as he continued, “We took you in because we care about you and the kind of life you have. Not because of something you can do, but because of who you are as a person. A person who braids Bucky’s hair and puts the dishes away correctly and knows exactly what to say when I’m feeling down on myself. You’d never let me or Bucky get away with talking about ourselves like this, so why do it to yourself?” You shrugged and tried to stifle yet more tears. His hand moved to the side of your head, holding your cheek and rubbing at the skin behind your ear with his thumb.

Voice stronger, he went on, “ You don’t need to do anything to earn our love. You already have it. I don’t want to hear anymore about you not deserving love or affection or any other damn thing in the world. You deserve it all. Got it?” Though his tone was serious, his actions were anything but. He wrapped both arms around you, holding you closely to him breathing deeply and evenly, heading back to sleep. You couldn’t find words so you just nodded against him and slipped your fingers back in his hair, both of you overtaken quickly by your exhaustion.

When you awoke to Steve’s hand caressing your cheek, you felt relieved and refreshed. “How long were we out?” you asked, yawning. “About three hours, it seems,” he responded softly, voice still laced with sleep. You tried to roll over, but Steve stopped you. “Don’t go anywhere. The burns, remember?” You nodded and settled back against his chest, suddenly shivering from the ice coursing through your veins. “Captain Rogers?” Jarvis’ voice spoke out from the speakers, “Sergeant Barnes is completely mended and proclaims to be hungry. Shall I order some food for you three?” As if in response, your own stomach growled. “Yes, please, order pizza for us, Jarvis.” “Consider it done, sir. James is making his way to you and should arrive in less than three minutes.” Before you could attempt to spring up, Steve reminded you to go slowly. So you did, peeling yourself off Steve’s chest and coming to a seated position on the couch. Your whole body felt sore, but at least it didn’t burn. Steve got up and retreated to the bathroom before emerging with a wet washcloth for your face. Undoubtedly, you looked a wreck from crying and napping and crying again.

The elevator dinged and Steve disappeared from your side to rush to Bucky. Steve’s hands were shaking and you elected to hang back and watch your two boys hold each other. They were so cute you almost cried. You stood up slowly, grabbing the end table for support when your legs tried to go out from under you. Unwilling to break his hold on Steve, Bucky watched you struggle to find your footing. Finally, you managed it and planted yourself firmly upright. His smile was so full of tenderness you thought your heart might burst out of your chest. “Come here,” he commanded firmly, stretching his flesh hand out toward you. Steve shifted, clearly to make room for you in the Bucky hug. Your feet carried you faster than you thought possible and, once you got close enough, they pulled you in and nothing could feel as warm and secure as this moment, right now. Held between them, the whole world outside seemed unimportant and unworthy of your attention. You could never leave this apartment again and feel content as long as they were there with you.


	3. Nightmares and Movie Nights

You heard the words before a face came into focus. "Wake up. C'mon, baby girl. Wake up for me." Instinctively, you reached out toward the voice and felt a hand catch yours. The events of your nightmare were still swirling around in your mind and melding a little with reality. You couldn't tell who was trying to wake you, but he sounded familiar. You opened your mouth to try to respond, but tasted salt. Were you crying? When you finally pried your eyes open, there was a face very close to yours. He was still speaking, but you didn’t comprehend. Frustrated by your inability to get ahold of yourself, you started crying harder. When the cold hand brushed your cheek, you jumped and shut your eyes.

Surely you were still dreaming. It couldn't be Bucky, wasn't he still on a mission? Had he come back? Was he safe? Your brain was so foggy you couldn't remember. All you could remember was how terrified you felt when your dad had you and how safe you felt once you'd gotten back with Steve. You started to sob. Squinting through your teary lashes, you saw someone who looked a lot like Bucky, but your mind was convinced he was still on a mission. 

Suddenly, someone lifted you up and you tried to squirm away, but strong arms held you firmly in place as they carried you to who knows where. Panic started to set in as your breaths became shorter and sharper. Squeezing your eyes shut tighter, you whimpered between gasps, "Don't hurt me! Please.” As soon as the arms set you down on a bed, you scrambled up to the headboard and put your hands out in front of you defensively. Two big hands grasped yours and a familiar voice broke through your panic,

"You're safe. No one's trying to hurt you. It's me, it's Steve." That voice you recognized and your eyes flew open and, to your relief, it really was Steve. You lowered your hands, and he immediately gathered you up into his arms and rocked you back and forth, reminding you, "Breathe. Breathe. You gotta breathe for me, sweetie." It took several minutes of encouragement from Steve, but you eventually calmed down. You could feel lips press against the side of your head before another voice whispered, "That's it. You're okay." 

You turned your head to the voice and opened your eyes. "B-bucky?" You barely whispered it, but he heard you and his eyes told you something was wrong. You looked between him and Steve, trying to piece together what had happened. "You had a nightmare," Steve started, "Bucky heard you and tried to wake you up, but you were still mostly asleep and I guess you panicked." Your eyes went wide and you looked to Bucky for confirmation. The thought of you not recognizing Bucky made tears well up in your eyes. Steve enfolded you for a few seconds, murmuring, “Everything’s all right now.” 

When he loosened his grip, you pushed back and turned to Bucky, who was staring at the blankets. You reached a hand out and gingerly touched his knee, "Bucky?" He didn't move, but flicked his eyes up in your direction. Despite all your effort, your bottom lip trembled a little as you said, "I'm sorry." He looked up clearly baffled, so you explained quickly, "I thought I was back with my Dad. I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry." You started to cry again and your third "I'm sorry" was muffled against his chest as he pulled you away from Steve and onto his lap. You put your arms around him, holding on desperately. His shirt was getting wet with your tears and you felt the need to explain what was going on in your head. It was, however, proving difficult to find words, so you whispered, sniffling, "I was really scared." The arms around you tightened as he whispered back, "Shh. I know, baby girl. I know you were. I got you. You're safe." 

After a few shuddering gulps for air, you shifted down a bit and fitted your head under Bucky's chin. Bucky extended his flesh arm to Steve, who scooted close enough to lay his head on Bucky's shoulder and pull your feet into his lap. For several minutes, none of you spoke, just held onto each other. You could feel Bucky's metal arm clutching you to him like you might vanish and Steve's fingers tracing up from your ankle to your knee then back down again in a calming pattern. 

"So", Bucky started carefully, "You want to tell us about it?" Sighing, you tried to explain, "The parts I remember were about my dad. I was back with him and he was everywhere somehow. Like there was more than one of him." You shivered and Bucky rubbed his hand up and down your arm. "He was hurting me again, and he just kept saying such terrible things about…about," you struggled to keep yourself composed enough to tell them the most frightening part of your nightmare. "What did he say?" Steve asked, clearly curious but trying to be calm. You opened your mouth to answer, but you started crying again, not even bothering to hide your face. Bucky brought the hand that had been on Steve's shoulder to your face, wiping your tears away and then lingered, stroking your cheek softly. 

"Listen, doll," Bucky started, his voice low and steady, "I know firsthand how scary dreams can be and how real they can feel. But I also know that if you keep them bottled up they will haunt you. They're almost worse than what actually happened. I know that what you went through with your dad was awful," his voice breaks a little as he continues, "but I also know how much I love you and how much Steve loves you and no matter what he said in reality or your dreams, nothing's gonna change that. You understand me?" You nodded seriously and he made an "out with it" gesture with his hands. 

You took a long, deep breath and spoke on the exhale, " The rest of the dream I was tied to a chair by my arms and legs like I was when it actually happened but it was tighter, I couldn't even struggle against it. And my Dad was standing right in front of me yelling and hitting me like he used to when I was a kid. About how much he hated me and didn't love me and how I was worthless and ugly because he hated every woman alive except my mom. And she's dead now anyway.” Steve inhaled sharply and wiped at his eyes. You continued, “He said you could never actually want me around because I'm just too much for anybody to handle. After that, I just sat there and let him hit me. I couldn't fight back anymore.” 

Bucky sat absolutely still for a moment before he pulled away, setting you down on the bed in front of him. For a brief moment, you started to freak out; thinking something you’d said had upset him. His metal hand lifted your chin so you were looking at him in the eyes. “I need you to listen to me for a minute, okay?” he asked, blue eyes burning with rage. The hand holding your chin didn’t hurt, not really, but there was not much room for movement either so you nodded as best you could. He continued, "Your dad can go straight to hell for the way he treated you. If I have anything to say about it, he'll go soon. I'll kill any bastard who comes an inch too close to you without your permission.” He practically growled his proclamation and you felt your heart start to come back together a little. 

“Bucky!” Steve’s voice warned, clearly wary of any murderous intentions. Bucky took an exaggeratingly slow breath and he glanced at Steve ruefully as he said, “You are worth protecting. Worth my love, our love, everything and anything." Steve put a hand on his shoulder and picked up, "We can't fix what already happened. We know that better than anyone. But we can promise to take care of you and make the future much better. If that's something you want." 

They both looked at you, waiting for your response. You couldn't help but smile at them through your tears, "Of course I do. Please. Yes, I want that." They each grabbed an arm and pulled you into a big, crushing group hug. You were crying a little, Steve was sniffling, and Bucky patted you both and said flatly, “Guys, guys. It’s okay. Calm down.” Steve whined dramatically, causing Bucky to shove him away. He meant it playfully, but Steve was too close to the edge of the bed and fell off, arms flailing. Bucky burst out in peals of laughter and nearly fell off the other side of the bed. 

You leant over the side to make sure Steve was alright, which you realized was a mistake as he grabbed your outstretched arm and pulled you down on top of him. You yelped, fixing Steve with a wounded look, and asked grumpily, “What was that for?” He leaned up to press a loud, smacking kiss to your forehead and cackled at your expression. Despite your best efforts to look insulted, he kept on laughing. You let your head fall with a soft thunk against his sternum, mumbling, “I thought you were the nice one.” It was Bucky’s turn to laugh (or rather just continue laughing) above you, “Oh no, darlin’, Steve’s a punk. Always has been. I’m the sweet one.” Steve choked on a giggle, and tried to pull Bucky down too, but the ex-assassin was much too fast for that. He leaped over the both of you and made a break for the bathroom. 

Steve’s laughter finally died down when he realized how quiet you’d been. He ran his fingers through your hair a few times before saying, “I love you. And you’re even cuter when you’re mad.” Even though he couldn’t see you, you rolled your eyes, but returned the sentiment, “I love you, too. Even if you’re kind of a jackass.” He feigned offense and Bucky yelled his agreement from the bathroom. Jarvis’ voice suddenly filled the room, “I’m sorry to interrupt but Agent Barton would like me to tell you that he’s starting movie on the common floor if you’d like to join him.” You didn’t move, so Bucky and Steve decided that yes that was a good idea since none of you were ready to sleep anyway. You rolled off of Steve and accepted a hand up.

Bucky grinned at you mischievously as you made your way to the door. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, turning around just in time to feel Bucky toss over his shoulder and keep walking nonchalantly toward the elevator. “Buck, be careful!” Steve cautioned. “Says the guy who yanked me off the bed and laughed at my misery,” you retorted, sticking your tongue out at him as best you could from your current position. You didn’t tell him that Bucky tightened his grip slightly.   
~  
By the time you made it to the common floor, Tony and Bruce had joined Clint. While Tony, Clint, and Steve argued about what movie to watch, Bucky pointed at the highly coveted, oversized, plushy armchair in the room and raised his eyebrows at you in question. Normally Tony or Clint got there first, but the argument had distracted them. Bruce watched from the couch with amusement as Bucky plopped down in the chair and you slid in next to him, throwing your legs over his lap, and hiding your head in his shoulder to stifle your snickering. Bruce rolled his eyes good-naturedly and turned back to the book he was reading.   
They eventually settled on Return of the Jedi before they noticed you and Bucky. Clint didn’t even argue, just glared and plopped down next to Bruce. You had a hard time keeping a straight face while Tony complained and moaned and Steve gave you sad puppy eyes. Bucky, on the other hand, dropped his face into a Winter Soldier-like stare and didn’t budge. Tony relented and sulked into the less comfy armchair across the room. Steve still looked hurt until Bucky motioned for him to come closer and whispered something in his ear that must’ve appeased him because he settled next to Clint contentedly.   
The movie started and you paid attention for a few minutes before you started feeling sleepy. But, you reminded yourself, sleeping means dreaming and that hasn’t gone well. You were getting tense just thinking about it and feeling like you could cry again when you felt Bucky rubbing small circles between your shoulder blades. “You okay?” he asked under his breath, eyes softening a little. “Just tired,” you said, shrugging. “Well you can go to sleep if you want, Barton already did.” You turned your head and giggled a little when you see Clint curled up against Steve, who looked afraid to move. 

You squinted a little in the darkness and elbowed Bucky, pointing to the other side of Clint. He snorted when he realized that Bruce was leaning on Clint while he was curled up on Steve. You reached out and tapped Steve’s arm and put your hand over your heart, “You’re such a good friend, Cap.” Bucky saluted him and he narrowed his eyes and retorted, “I hate both of you,” before purposefully turning back to the movie. 

You felt more relaxed when you turned back to Bucky, and rested your forehead against his cheek before confessing, “I’m afraid I’ll have another nightmare.” He wrapped his flesh arm around your shoulders, “Trust me, staying up to avoid it won’t help.” Sighing, you countered, “So what do I do? Just let it happen?” Your voice wavered a little at the and Bucky turned to press a kiss to your forehead reassuringly. “Yes. Sleep. I’ll be right here with you if it happens again.” 

Too tired to argue much more, you moved your head down a little and pushed your face into his neck, allowing your eyes to close. He draped his metal arm around your waist and held you tight, “Go on to sleep, gorgeous. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” You yawned and murmured drowsily, “Love you,” before drifting off to sleep, feeling secure and cozy Bucky’s embrace. 

After you’d been asleep for a few minutes, Steve reached out a hand to touch Bucky’s arm and smile at him tenderly. Since everyone was asleep and no snarky comments would be made, Bucky smiled back and asked quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping girl curled up on his lap, “Stevie, how old are we?” Steve considered for a second, “Nearly a hundred years old, give or take. Why?” “Well,” he started, sounding nervous, “Can we adopt a 23 year old? Is that allowed?” Steve laughed cheerfully, “Feeling paternal, Buck?” Bucky pondered that and admitted, “Well, yeah. I guess so. I mean, she did have a shitty childhood. I know she’s an adult, but I just want to take care of her. Protect her. You know what I mean?” 

Steve grinned at him, besotted. “Yeah, Buck. I absolutely know what you mean.” Bucky couldn’t help himself, he grinned affectionately back at Steve. Tony piped up from across the room, “You could always ask her if she wants to change her last name. It doesn’t really mean much legally, but she’d probably feel like she belongs. And wouldn’t have any more ties to her dad. Just a thought.” He yawned and flopped over in the armchair. Steve looked at Bucky wide-eyed and Bucky considered for a second before he said, “If she wants to, I’m game.” Steve nodded and let his head fall against the back of the couch and fell asleep.   
Bucky was the only one who made it through the entirety of the movie, and when it was over, he asked the ceiling, “Jarvis, could you make sure no one comes in for a few hours?” “Certainly, sir,” Jarvis responded. Resting his head on yours, Bucky allowed his eyes to close and nodded off.


	4. Free for the Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, Bucky, and the reader have a weekend to themselves. Fluff with a little angst mixed in because I tried, but I CANNOT hold myself back. I just love hurt/comfort too much! But everybody's okay and no one is in mortal danger...at least for one weekend.

The sound of rattling pots and pans startled you out of a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Before you even opened your eyes, you rolled them and banged your head softly against your pillow. This weekend was a rare occasion, all three of you had the entire weekend off. In your mind, at least, some of that time should be spent sleeping in. But no, no rest for the super humans or their very grumpy roommate.

Turning over, you looked at the clock, 6:40am. You sighed and gave yourself a few minutes to browse Twitter while you sulked. Just because you were feeling annoying, you retweeted a couple of @iamironman 's tweets and favorited at least 20 of @hawkeyerules 's because Clint would be pissed. You also favorited a few of @bbanner 's science tweets you were pretty sure no one else understood.

You chuckled to yourself and rolled the other direction, grabbing your Bucky Bear from behind your nightstand and burying your face in its fur. (Tony had given you the Bucky Bear as a joke. Unbeknownst to anyone, you loved it and snuggled with it when you were alone. Steve and Bucky didn't know yours existed. They had an original mint one from their army days on a shelf somewhere.) You felt a little silly with a stuffed animal, but you'd had a very plain brown bear when you were very small that you adored. Your dad had taken it away when you went to kindergarten and you'd cried yourself to sleep for a week. So you figured you had teddy bear time to make up.

You were staring at the wall and willing yourself to fall back asleep when someone flopped down on the other side of the bed. A bit dazed, you turned to face the intruder still clutching the bear. Bucky was sprawled out on 3/4 of your bed; barely giving you room to turn. He opened his mouth to say something, then his eyes widened and he snatched the bear out of your hands. Embarrassed, you slid under your comforter.

Sounding amused, he asked, "How long have you had one of these? It looks new." "Tony gave it to me," you offered as an answer, voice muffled under the blanket. Tugging on the blanket lightly, he asked, "Why are you hiding?" You threw back your hiding place and mumbled, "I'm a 23 year old woman who sleeps with a teddy bear." He laughed and petted your head consolingly, "You know, you've got the inspiration here, in the flesh," he gestured to himself, "I'm a little insulted you'd choose the bear over the clearly superior cuddler right here."

"You say that, but I didn't really have a choice." You said and looked up at him. He raised his eyebrows in question. As matter-of-factly as you could, you stated, "The inspiration, the superior cuddler, was too busy getting laid last night." Bucky's eyes widened, "Wh-what?" You nodded, grinning, "I don't have noise-cancelling headphones, sadly. I tried, but I could still hear some...words." His surprise quickly dissolved into fits of laughter. Wheezing and sputtering, tears pooling in his eyes, he yanked you up to sit beside him and clutched your arm, unable to stop laughing. You shook your head and rolled your eyes.

Steve strolled in then, asking, "What joke am I missing in here?" It was your turn to burst out laughing, though you regained control quickly. Bucky's face was flushed when he finally gasped out, "She could hear us, Steve!" Steve looked puzzled. You clarified, "Last night," gesturing between the two of them. You were pretty sure Steve's entire body was bright red with realization. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I, we, umm, didn't know.” You got up and went over to him, patting his arm, "It's okay, Steve. I'm not scarred for life." Even on your tiptoes, you had to pull him down a bit to kiss his cheek.

He exchanged a look with Bucky that you were sure spelled trouble for you. Sure enough, Steve picked you up as if you weighed nothing and threw you over his shoulder. You wanted to protest, but you were _so_ tired, so you just waved to Bucky and went with it.

When you allowed him to carry you down the hall and into the kitchen without argument, Steve got worried. He set you down on the couch and asked, "Are you okay, sweetie?" You nodded, drawing your knees up, "I'm just tired." Steve perched on the edge of the couch and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. He asked again, smoothing your hair back from your forehead, "You're sure you're okay? Do you feel sick?" You mumbled, "Not sick, sleepy. And hungry."

Steve made a move to get up, but you trapped his hand. "Nooo," you whined, "No. No." He chuckled, "Okay. What do you want me to do?" You considered your options, and then asked, "Who's making breakfast?" "Bucky's going to make pancakes,” Steve answered, “we had trouble finding the griddle. Oh man, we woke you up! I’m sorry." You shrugged and asked sheepishly, “Would you stay on the couch with me? You’re so warm." Steve laughed and said, "I think I can handle that."

That was how you ended up with your head in Steve’s lap while Bucky took his sweet time making breakfast. Maybe it was your drowsy hunger talking, but you were pretty sure you’d been lying there for years and Bucky still wasn’t done. Not that it was uncomfortable with Steve’s voice and laughter above you, talking to Bucky and running his fingers through your hair, occasionally pausing to run his thumb across your cheek or along your jaw. If it weren’t for the rumbling hunger in your stomach, you could stay here all day long.

“Alright, lady and gentleman,” Bucky announced, “Breakfast is served!” Steve, ever living up to the gentleman label, helped you up off the couch and over to the table. You paused when you saw Bucky’d made a happy face in your pancakes. He and Steve stopped mid-bite when they saw your expression. “Darlin’?” Bucky asked, “Everything okay?” Blinking furiously, you smiled tightly at Bucky, explaining, “Yeah it’s just…my mom used to do this for me when I was really little. I hadn’t thought about it in awhile.”

Steve looked stricken and Bucky looked guilty, so you continued, “I love it. Really. It’s great!” Neither of them looked convinced, so you took a big bite and made a big deal about how good they tasted, “Seriously! They’re good! I’m fine, guys. It’s a goody memory.” Steve smiled and patted your knee before going back to devouring his monstrous stack of pancakes, devoid of smiley faces. Bucky looked at you sideways, but went back to his food.

After you’d all cleaned up from breakfast and were lounging around on the couch, Steve tried to convince you to come running with them that afternoon and you suppressed a groan. “No thank you. Not happening, not with you two.” “C’mon doll,” Bucky admonished, “we’ll go easy on you.” Steve shook with silent laughter at that outright lie. “I know I usually just loaf around here,” you admitted, “but I actually do have something to do this afternoon.”

They both turned to you with dramatically wide, unbelieving eyes. “My hair is a mess,” you explained, gesturing at your head, “so I’m getting it cut today.” Steve looked at you thoughtfully, “It looks okay to me. But if you want to, you should. But you don’t have to, is all I’m saying.” You smiled at him, “Thank you, Steve. I get it. I’m just tired of it being so long. It takes forever to dry it and now that I don’t have someone telling me what to do with it, I want to change it.”

A look passed between them and you cursed at yourself inwardly. Now it was you ruining the weekend off. Steve asked quietly, “Who was telling you what to do with your own hair?” Laughing bitterly you asked back, “Who do you think? Same people who yanked me around by it.” Neither of them responded to that, but Steve reached around Bucky, who was sitting between you two, and squeezed your shoulder. Bucky stared at you for a long minute before he asked, “Are you going to the fancy place around the corner?” You nodded, surprised that you weren’t expecting him to know where you were going. “I’ll come walk you home when you’re done,” he said decidedly. Arguing seemed fruitless, despite Steve’s beginning protests, and honestly you didn’t mind. “I should be done about 4:00, but you may have to wait a bit.” Bucky nodded and you left it at that.

Nobody seemed to want to move. You were all off and in no rush getting ready. Flipping through Netflix, you asked them, “Have you guys seen _Clueless_?” The looks they gave you were enough of an answer, so you sat up and started it before curling against Bucky’s right side.. Steve flopped onto his back, throwing his long legs over the side of the couch and resting his head in Bucky’s lap while lacing his fingers in Bucky’s metal ones. Bucky complained, “You two. _I swear to god_.”

“But Bucky,” you protested, feigning offense, “you’re the inspiration for the cuddliest teddy bear ever! You said so this morning. I could always go get the bear instead…” You halfheartedly attempted to pull away, but Bucky’s flesh arm snatched you and pulled you back, effectively trapping you against his side. He turned to the side and smacked a kiss against your forehead (and then Steve’s when he grumbled) before declaring, “Not a chance, doll. Nobody’s going anywhere.”

~

Biting your nails was a bad habit, you knew that, but you were regretting this haircut and it wasn’t even done yet. The stylist was nice enough and she applauded you on your “natural style” when you showed her the cut you wanted. For as long as you can remember, your hair had cascaded past your shoulders, long and easy to pull…no. You weren’t going to think about that. This was a good day. The salon around you went quiet except for your stylist’s small talk. “Oooh honey!” she squealed, purportedly to you, “there’s a tall, dark, and handsome beefcake waiting by the front desk. Mmm. He’s something else, I’ll tell you.”

Biting back a laugh, you shot off a quick text:

_Are you here, by any chance?_

Bucky: _Yeah._

You: That _explains it._

Bucky: _What?_

You: _Everyone’s gawking over a tall, dark, and handsome BEEFCAKE at the front. I’m assuming it’s you? I could be wrong…probably not you._

Bucky: _OF COURSE IT’S ME! I am wounded. Hurt._

You: ☺ _Try not to pick up any girls, tiger._

Bucky: _Well, doll, I can try to turn off the charm for a few minutes. ;)_

Your stylist was blow-drying your hair and finishing the ends when you noticed you’d missed some texts.

Bucky: 4:00- _Not to rush you, but are you almost done?_

           4:05- _Everyone in here is staring at me._

           4:10- _You know I love you, but I’m considering waiting outside._

You: _Calm down. I’m done. No making fun of me until we get home._

Bucky: _I’d never dream of it._

You ran your fingers through your hair and mumbled, “Wow. It looks different. And short.” The stylist, who’s name was Amy according to the card she pressed into your hand, removed the cape from around your shoulders and smiled at you in the mirror, “Listen, honey. I get paid to be nice and I’m telling you, you look beautiful. It suits you. Go knock ‘em dead!”

She spun you around and you thanked her and headed toward the front, smiling at the front desk girl when she wolf-whistled at you and pumped her fist, “Girl, you look good!” Everyone around you sucked in a surprised breath when Bucky got up and strode over to you, winking before he pecked your cheek and stage whispering, “Let’s get out of here, beautiful.”

You suppressed an eye roll and escaped into the cool evening air, walking quickly back toward the apartment. “Woah, woah! Slow your roll there, sweetie. No rush.” Bucky slung an arm around your shoulders and made you slow down. You walked in silence for a few minutes before Bucky broke it, “I like the hair, if it makes any difference.” You glanced up at him, “Yeah?” He nodded. “I like it, too,” you admitted, “It’s not too short?” He shook his head, “Nah. It’s nice. Different.” You leaned into him and walked back home without saying another word, lost in thought about people you didn’t want to think about ever again.

Bucky kept talking the entire walk home, seemingly unabashed by your silence. When you were almost home, he jostled you out of your daze, and asked, “You okay, baby girl?” You shrugged and he stopped in front of your building and put both hands on your shoulders before he said, “Something’s wrong. It’s not your haircut is it?” You shook your head, not meeting his eyes. “Then what is it, darlin’? He rubbed your shoulders while he waited for you to answer. Swallowing hard, you looked up at the sky and tried to blink back tears you didn’t want to cry before you looked at him and admitted, “It’s not the haircut itself. I just, I always used to have to keep it long. My dad wouldn’t let me get it cut and neither would my ex. They were both, you know, so controlling and abusive and I don’t know,” a tear slipped out and you wiped it away quickly, “I’m, it’s just, making me think about them. Sorry.”

Bucky shook his head and you could see the anger all over his face that he was trying to push down. He grumbled through gritted teeth, “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” You sniffled and stepped forward to hug him, resting your head against his shoulder. He sighed and cupped the back of your head, wrapping his metal arm around your back. “I’m sorry they treated you like that,” he whispered. You nodded against his shoulder and held on for a minute before pulling away and following him inside.

As soon as you got in, Steve bombarded you with ooh’s and ah’s and compliments. He was sweet, but it honestly felt overwhelming. He didn’t have any clue what was going through your mind, but, thankfully, Bucky did, so he got Steve to stop and let you go change clothes because, “No one’s leaving again until Monday. Better go get comfy,” Steve had announced happily.

As soon as your door shut, Bucky filled Steve in on what had happened on your walk home. Steve asked, “I made it worse, didn’t I?” Bucky shook his head, “No. no. Stop that. You were being nice. A little overboard, but that’s you, Stevie.” Steve thumped Bucky’s metal arm so it made a clanging sound and Bucky cursed at him, but continued, “We gotta do something to take her mind off of it. She looked so sad. I can’t take it.” Steve agreed, then snapped his fingers, “I’ve got an idea, but I need help.” He whispered it to Bucky and he lit up like a Christmas tree and kissed Steve, exclaiming, “You’re perfect! You know that?” Steve blushed and they set to work.

~

Once you got into your room and shut the door, you exhaled a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Walking quickly, you got into your bathroom and shut that door too before leaning over the counter to get a better look at your hair. The stylist, your instincts, Bucky, and Steve were right. It looked great. Your breathing started to even out and you made your shoulders relax. So ingrained on your subconscious was that nagging feeling of worthlessness, that you cried over a haircut. _A haircut_. You thought back to all the kind things Steve had said when you got home. He was trying to be nice. Of course he was.

You undressed quickly and put on some leggings and a big t-shirt before you reemerged to the sound of two giant grown men giggling like teenagers. Making your way down the hall, you opened the closet to get out a blanket to find the whole thing emptied. Curious, you tiptoed into the living room and saw what a giant, fluffy mass of blankets and pillows on the floor. The couches had been shoved back and were missing their cushions. The coffee table had been moved to one side. Steve and Bucky were already making themselves comfortable, propping up on pillows and arguing over which TV show to binge on. "Is this going to be a repeat of last night?" you asked, standing over them, "Because I can get lost." Bucky was laughing already, but Steve wasn't having it and swept your feet out from under you, causing you to fall on your ass with an undignified squeal. Now they were both laughing at you, and all you could do was shake your head.

"You're not getting off the hook that easy, young lady," Steve admonished, turning his expression serious for a second. Bucky propped himself up on his metal arm to look at you and Steve rolled to his side. You weren't sure what was happening, so you just stayed still. He laid a hand gently on your knee before he asked, "Are you okay?" Your expression must have shown your confusion because he clarified, "I mean about today. Bucky filled me in."

You chewed on your bottom lip while you formulated your answer. "Yeah, I think so. I just wasn't expecting a haircut to make me so...emotional." Steve nodded. "You know that nothing that those people" he spit out the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth, "did to you was your fault. Right?" You offered him a small smile in response. Bucky agreed, "None of it. Now let's waste our time getting sucked into this TV show about rich teenagers." The opening of _Gossip Girl_ started and Steve pulled on the hem of your shirt until you gave in and settled down next to him.

Once you propped yourself up on the pillows they gave you, you had to admit the pile of blankets and pillows and cushions was surprisingly comfortable. For a while, you watched beautiful highschoolers underage drink and complain about their first world problems. After a couple episodes, however, your mind drifted and you dozed for a few minutes. Distantly, you heard Bucky say something about going to get pizza because their favorite place was short-staffed and couldn't deliver. The door closing behind him brought you back to consciousness and you could feel the heat radiating off of Steve.

Scooting just a bit, you curled up against his side. As you'd hoped, he slung an arm around your shoulders, the solid weight of it keeping you in place. Internally, you knew this was a bad idea. Not because there was anything wrong with Steve in the least, but because if you were trying to keep your emotions in check, snuggling up to someone warm and safe wasn't going to help. At all.

Determined to fight it as long as you could, you closed your eyes and tried to concentrate on Steve's heartbeat, his steady in-and-out breaths, his arm around your shoulders and ... damn it. He leaned down and kissed your head and that was that. Your tears didn't come in loud, shuddering sobs this time, but instead tracked down your face silently. It took Steve a few minutes to realize what was happening. When he did, he didn't say a word. He gradually maneuvered you until your head was resting against his shoulder. Giving up on holding yourself together, you clung to him and continued to cry quietly. Wrapping both arms around you, Steve didn't say a word; he just held you.

"You okay?" he asked after you'd calmed down. Nodding against him, you said, "Yeah. I'm sorry." Shaking his head and clucking his tongue, he said firmly, "No, no. It's okay." "But," you argued, "I'm, I don't want to cry about everything. I don't want to be like this all the time." Steve shushed you, "You won't. I promise. It'll get better." He pushed play on the episode he'd paused to comfort you and settled back against the pillows with a long exhale. After watching for a few minute with much less enthusiasm than Steve, you mumbled, "Thank you."

He and ran his fingers slowly up and down your spine, drawing patterns aimlessly at first, then you realized he was writing something with his index finger. Scrunching your nose, you asked, "Are you writing 'I love you?'" He wrote _Yes_ and you laughed, "The feeling's mutual.” He went back to watching the show and you didn't sleep, but you relaxed a little, giggling occasionally when he wrote something else along your back.

Halfway through another episode, Bucky reappeared with way too much pizza for three people to consume. After he deposited the food in the kitchen, he stood over the two of you with a disapproving glare. “Steven Grant Rogers, I thought we talked about waiting to cuddle pile until after dinner. Remember that? Hmm?” Steve looked between you and Bucky a few times before answering, “Sorry, Buck. I’m just too huggable. It can’t be helped.” You lifted your head up and agreed solemnly, “It’s true.”

Bucky sighed dramatically and threw up his hands. “Fine,” he said, “don’t worry about me. I just trudged through the mean streets of Brooklyn to get your two food, but don’t give me a second thought.” You glanced at Steve, who was steadfastly ignoring Bucky. “Mean streets?” you asked, pushing yourself to a seated position, “the master assassin and world-renowned spy, James Buchanan Barnes, is scared of our hipster neighborhood?” Bucky glared at you and Steve was shaking with laughter, but you pressed on, “Next time I’ll go so the soccer moms and baristas don’t get you, sugar.” You smiled over at Steve who was howling with laughter, but turning your back was a mistake.

In less than a second, Bucky had you pinned to the floor and wasn’t hurting you, but he wasn’t letting you move either. He was inches from your face when he growled, “I am not scared of _anything_.” Steve, unhelpful punk that he was, just watched you both with faint amusement. You tried to squirm, but Bucky was unrelenting. A short staring contest ensued and Steve grumbled that you were both “unbelievable” before getting up and rummaging around in the kitchen.

The Winter Soldier glare he fixed on you was truly unsettling. Your eyes scanned his face for any sign of weakness, but he held firm. His grip was starting to hurt, but even when you whimpered, he did not budge. You could hear Steve's footsteps before he started to warn, "Buck..." You cut Steve off and apologized, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. You are so brave. Thank you, Bucky, for your unwavering devotion to the cause of keeping us fed.” After a second, Bucky rolled off of you and got to his feet. He took a bow, “Thanks, doll. That’s all I ever wanted to hear.” You rolled your wrists a few times and could feel Steve glaring at Bucky without looking up. 

"I'm fine," you said to no one in particular, "I brought this on myself." Bucky snorted and helped you up, so Steve went back into the kitchen shaking his head. Bucky ran his thumbs over your wrists, and asked quietly so Steve couldn't hear, "I didn't really hurt you, did I?" You shook your head no. He pulled you by your wrists into a big bear hug and when Steve muttered something about how weird you guys were Bucky tightened his grip on you and shouted, "You broke the cuddle rule, pal! I'm just going with the flow." 

~

The next morning you woke up on the blanket pile sandwiched between Steve and Bucky, one of whom was snoring. Peeking your eyes open just a little, you saw Bucky in front of you, so Steve was the culprit, and he pulled you closer to him in his sleep. He continued sawing logs directly into your ear and you groaned a little. Bucky opened one eye and you looked from Steve to him, trying to wordlessly communicate your predicament. Steve let out another monstrous noise and Bucky smirked. You turned on your best sad face, making your eyes big and sticking out you lower lip. Slowly, Bucky snaked an arm between you and Steve and tried to pry you away, but Steve tightened his grip. Bucky shrugged and fitted himself closer to you, effectively squishing you all together. Steve started up again and you let your head fall against Bucky’s chest, accepting your fate.

Bucky ran his thumb across your cheek and whispered, barely audible, “Don’t be like that, baby girl.” You huffed in protest and didn’t move. You felt him kiss the top of your head before resting his cheek against your hair. “We can’t wake the sleeping giant. He’ll be grumpy,” he whispered, moving his thumb to the back of your neck, rubbing lazy circles. You sighed in agreement and closed your eyes, hoping to go back to sleep.

Drifting between waking and snoozing, you startled a little when you heard Bucky’s soft singing. It wasn’t English. Maybe Russian? French? It didn’t matter because it was soothing and sweet and you wanted to cement this moment into your memory; the solid weight of Steve’s arm around you, Bucky’s endearing attempts to lull you to sleep, and the feeling of being cared for that you were positive you’d never get over. Steve nuzzled between your shoulder blades, cuddling impossibly closer in his sleep. You weren’t sure how you got so lucky, but you definitely weren’t letting them go anytime soon. Breathing in a deep whiff of Bucky’s unmistakable scent, you slept, protected and content between your two favorite people in the world.


	5. On My Own (with Bucky) Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes on a long mission, leaving Bucky and the reader at home. Bucky's got an attitude problem, but it's nothing some talking and hugging won't fix. The next chapter will feature a reunion with Steve, so hang tight!

Rolling over, you checked the clock beside your bed. 1:00am; you’d been in bed for two hours, wide-awake and staring at the ceiling. The only thing you could think of was whether or not Steve was safe. He’d been gone with Clint and Natasha on a mission for almost six weeks with very little communication. Bucky was with you, of course, but he’d been going to bed early lately. He’d been training extra with Sam since Steve was gone, leaving him bruised up and exhausted by the time he got home. Tony had been tinkering with his metal arm, too, trying to improve it with no success, and that put Bucky in a foul mood. Not that he was cross with you in particular, just prickly and quieter than usual.

Thinking about Steve being gone god knows where and Bucky’s distant attitude, you started to tear up a little. Swearing at yourself silently, you threw the covers off and grabbed a tissue, wiping half-heartedly at your tears. If I can’t sleep, you thought, I can at least get some tea and stop feeling sorry for myself. Heading to the kitchen intent on trying that sleep blend that Bruce made for you, you noticed there was a light on in the master bedroom. You stopped for a moment to consider your options. On the one hand, you could go in and see why Bucky was awake. On the other, you could sulk in the living room and drink tea and most likely cry yourself to sleep. Whether it was sleep-deprivation or just a need for distraction, you decided to knock on his door.

“Yeah?” Bucky sounded agitated, but you pressed on, “You up?” “Yeah.” Taking a breath, you decided to try one more time. “B-Bucky,” you were losing your nerve and the words came out shakier than you intended, “can I come in?” There was a pause and you were about to turn on your heel and go back to bed when he said, “Sure you can, sugar.” Taking the nickname as a good sign, you opened the door enough to slip in and shut it behind you.

He was sitting on top of the comforter, dressed in flannel pajama pants and what you knew was one of Steve’s white t-shirts. He looked up from his laptop and turned up his lips just a little at you. Yawning, he asked, “Everything okay?” You shrugged your shoulders, still standing by the door awkwardly. He patted the bed next to him, motioning for you to come sit. You sat cross-legged next to him, hoping he was in a better disposition tonight. Working with Bruce on a research project while Tony updated his armor and Bucky’s arm was great, but it meant little to no human contact for days.

It was killing you slowly because, no matter how much you liked Bruce, he wasn’t touchy-feely and you just _were_. Plus with the way Bucky was acting, you were itching for some kind of reassurance or comfort, but reluctant to ask because you were so new to this whole, “someone I love is gone and in mortal danger” thing. Even thinking that made you feel stupid and childish, as if you should know inherently how to deal with this situation. Pushing your self-doubt aside, you focused back on the problem to your left.

“Are you okay?” you asked, trying not to force too much. He mimicked your earlier shrug and you chuckled. “Are you working on something important?” He shook his head, closing the computer and turning to you, “Just trying to keep my mind off of…you know.” “Yeah. I know,” you confirmed. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “It sucks, right?” he asked and you nodded. He regarded you silently for a second, and then looked…sad.

“Man, I’m such a jerk.” He laughed at himself and reached a hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Your face must’ve betrayed your confusion because he explained, “To you. I’ve been a jerk to you.” He continued unhappily, “I’ve been throwing myself into training, being gone all hours, and haven’t said more than two words to you in what, two weeks?” You shrugged again, not sure what to say. He continued, “I’ve been dealing with Steve going on missions for a few years, but neither of us have been gone longer than 48 hours since you moved in have we?” Shaking your head, you folded and unfolded your hands in your lap. “And here I am, pouting and acting like a child. Did I ever even ask you how you’ve been doing with all this?” When you didn’t respond, he scrubbed a hand over his face and said, “I haven’t. I know I haven’t.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you didn’t hold any of that against him. It was hard enough to deal with Steve being gone without arguing with Bucky or getting in his space, so you hadn’t said anything. If he wanted to be alone, you’d gladly grant him that even if he hadn’t actually said any such thing. “Hey,” he said abruptly, “Look at me.” You met his eyes and he turned to face you, “I’m sorry. Here you are giving me room, making sure I’m fed, and generally being a perfect roommate and I’m fucking ignoring you. That’s not fair. Especially since Steve’s not here to fill in the gaps and tell me I’m being an idiot.” You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, “I didn’t do that much,” you joked, “Mostly just ordered food and left it where you could see it.” He shook his head, “I mean it, though. I shouldn’t treat you like I have been. I’m really sorry, doll.” You squeezed his knee in reassurance, “It’s okay. I already forgave you.”

He smiled brightly at you and moved back to his original position, backed up against the headboard, and put his flesh arm around you. The pair of you just sat for a few minutes, leaning into each other. You wouldn’t have complained if that were what he wanted to do all night; it made you feel much more at ease. “So”, he started again, voice quiet, “What’s keeping you up?” You thought for a second, considering your options, but the truth won out (thanks sleep-deprived brain), “Steve.” Bucky’s arm tightened around you before he said, “Yeah. Me too. He’s supposed to come back in a week, but that feel so far away from right now.” You agreed. It did feel like a long time. Tracing the plaid pattern on his thigh absentmindedly with your finger, you allowed your head to drop onto his shoulder.

“You tired?” he asked. You exhaled, “No. Not really. I mean, I probably should be, but I just don’t really want to sleep right now.” He nodded, resting his cheek on your head. “Same here. Any chance you’re hungry?” Without realizing what you were admitting to, you said, “I didn’t eat dinner, so yeah, definitely.” Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, “Why didn’t you eat?” When you didn’t answer, he persisted, “Listen, sweetheart, you have to eat. It’s not optional.” You sighed, “I know.” He turned and kissed the top of your head, ending any lingering fear that he was mad at you. “Want to order pizza? I don’t think anything else delivers this late.”

~

He handed you a drink and leaned on the counter on his elbows, looking up at where you were seated on the countertop. The face he made when you told him what you were working on with Bruce was probably your favorite expression of all time. He was awestruck by anything you did in the lab. He had a not-so-secret fascination with science and when you talked about your work in the lab, he was allears, trying to understand everything. Talking to him felt so pleasant and normal, that you almost forgot about Steve’s absence and enjoyed the sound of his voice.

Bucky asked why, since he’d been moping (his words) you hadn’t been working late. Your eyes fell to your feet, kicking back and forth against the counter softly while you formulate your reply. “I wanted to be here,” you admitted, feeling your neck flush with awkwardness, “I mean, uh, don’t get me wrong, Bruce is great, but, um, he’s not…he’s not you.” He’s silent then, regarding you with disgust or pity or secondhand embarrassment, you’re sure. But to be fair, you couldn’t see him because your gaze was fixed firmly on the counter you were sitting on.

Metal fingers poked your knee repeatedly until you looked up and, to your relief; he was smiling at you. “You know,” he said and his tone was playful, “If you wanted company, all you had to do was ask.” You looked down at him, stunned momentarily, before you deadpanned, “Yes. You’ve been very affectionate and welcoming lately. My bad.” It was his turn to be startled by your sudden sarcasm. He broke into a wide grin and teased, “Maybe if you’d just gone ahead and hugged me, I wouldn’t have been in such a bad mood.” You rolled your eyes, “So now it’s my fault?”

He yanked you off the counter and into his arms in one swift motion, and held you high enough that your feet were just off the floor. The metal arm squeezed you so forcefully you could barely breathe, and he was smirking, waiting for you to cave. It didn’t take long for you to choke out, “Can’t. Breathe.” He giggled (an ex-assassin was _giggling_ at you) and set you down on the ground, taking a step back so he was leaning against the refrigerator.

Reaching out and wiggling his fingers at you, he said softly, “C’mere.” Without any hesitation, you did and he wrapped both arms securely around you. Now all your energy was focused on not crying. You were getting what you wanted, so you should be happy, right? Even if you did miss Steve more than you thought humanly possible. And Bucky was _here_ and he was holding you and if you could just stay still and quiet, maybe you could make it without having an embarrassing breakdown.

Bucky pushed his nose into your hair and murmured, “You know I love you, right?” Squeezing your eyes shut, you forced the tears back momentarily. “Don’t make me cry,” you warned, speech wobblier than you intended. “I do, though,” he endured, “ even if I’ve been acting like a punk, doesn’t change it.” You tightened your grip on him, unable to reciprocate his sentiment through your now-falling tears. He rubbed a calming hand up and down your spine. “It’s okay,” he soothed, “Shh, baby girl. I got you.”

Bucky pulled back after your weeping had slowed and promised, “I know I already said it, but I really am sorry.” You swallowed and nodded, knowing he meant it. He smiled and rested his forehead against yours for a brief second before the doorbell rang. ~

After polishing off his entire pizza and most of yours, Bucky slumped against your side, tiredness radiating off of him. “Ready for bed?” you asked, hoping he’d say yes so you wouldn’t have to keep your eyes open any longer. “Bed sounds good,” he said, getting up and stretching his arms over his head before turning to you and extending his metal hand to help you up. It felt awkward to ask, so you didn’t, but Bucky didn’t leave you an opportunity to guess when he left his bedroom door wide open behind him. You walked in after him and shut the door, making a beeline for the bathroom so you wouldn’t have to get up again for a while.

When you got walked back into the room, Bucky was lying on his stomach across the bed. The thing was an XL king, yet he still managed to take up most of it, splayed out like a starfish. You walked around to what you knew was Steve’s side of the bed, closest to the door, and nudged his legs until he scooted over with a grunt. “Look,” you said, sitting back against the headboard, “If you wanna sleep alone, I’ll go.” Reaching out to grab your arm, he asked earnestly, “Please don’t.” Sliding down under the covers, you laid on your back and stretched your arms out wide, maybe, purposefully letting a hand fall across Bucky’s face. He shoved it above his head and twisted to face you. He smiled sweetly at you for a minute and slowly his expression faded until he looked positively miserable.

A realization dawned on you, and you felt oblivious for not seeing before how much he was suffering without Steve. Even after 2 years back together, they were so reliant on each other. Steve had always told you they didn’t let just anyone into their lives, and it seemed he was right. Suddenly you felt very privileged to be where you were. Not everyone got to escape cruel situations, but you did and you had the two of them to thank for it.

You turned on your side and scooted closer to Bucky so you could wind your arm around him and scratch back and forth between his shoulder blades gently. “It doesn’t get easier, does it?” you asked while Bucky reached out and grasped some your hair in his flesh fingers, twirling it as he thought about your question. He was close to falling asleep and his voice was thick when he admitted, “Not really. But it’s easier when I’m not alone.” Making your hand flat against his back, you rubbed smooth, purposeful circles and he grinned at you with his eyes closed. “Love you, Buck,” you murmured, sure he was dead to the world until he mumbled, “You too.”

When you woke up a few hours later, you’d turned away from him, but Bucky had pulled your back against his chest and was holding on firmly. How you’d managed to move so much in so little time was baffling to you, but waking up with someone spooning you was vastly better than the lonely nights you’d been having lately. Taking a moment to feel cozy and insulated by his heat (Seriously. Did they put something in those serums that made them human furnaces?) , you nestled into him and grabbed your phone. It was 7:15AM and you were supposed to be in the lab with Bruce sometime today. But you really didn’t want to leave. You shot Bruce a quick text, hoping he’d take the bait:

S _orry to text so early, but it’s been kind of a long night here. Might not make it until after lunch._

Ten minutes later, the reply came,

Bruce: _That’s okay; I can run some more diagnostics. Everything all right over there?_

Feeling half proud of yourself and half guilty, you responded,

_I know you’re not that kind of doctor, so I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say I was upset, but Bucky fixed it._

Bruce: _Good. Don’t forget we’re over here if you need something. Anything._

_Thanks, Bruce. I’ll let you know._

You dozed on and off until 9:00am, when your phone rang, showing Steve’s name on the caller ID. Quickly and quietly, you snatched it up and answered in a hushed tone, “Hello?” Steve was loud, “Hey! Why are you whispering?” Bucky groaned, clearly waking up. You decided to give Steve a shorter version of the truth, “Rough night last night.” “Oh,” his voice dropped and he sounded concerned, “Are you guys all right?”

Bucky grabbed for the phone, so you put it on speaker and Bucky hooked his chin on your shoulder and responded, “Yeah, yeah we’re fine, punk. Don’t worry about it.” Steve huffed into the phone, “We are talking about this when I get home.” You could practically see him wagging his finger as he said it. You responded seriously, “Yes sir.” After a short laugh, he said, “The mission went better than expected, so I’ll be home Sunday instead of Thursday.”

“Really? Steve that’s great!” Bucky shouted right in your ear and you winced. He put a hand over it as an apology, so you barely heard Steve say petulantly, “Only one of you will be happy to see me?” “Steve,” you said, exaggerating a sigh for Bucky’s benefit, “I’ve never thought I could miss someone as much as I miss you right now. Seriously, I can’t wait.” You could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I miss you two. Very much.” Someone barked something at him and he moaned, “Sorry guys, I have to go. See you soon!” Then he was gone, but you felt giddy. Two days seemed like nothing compared to a week.

Bucky rolled onto his back, smile practically glowing at you in the faint morning light. Your return smile morphed into a loud yawn. Bucky made grabby hands at you and you rolled over until you were curled up against his side. “Go back to sleep, gorgeous,” he whispered, stroking your hair, “I’ll keep watch.” Despite him practically buzzing with excitement beside you, sleep overtook swiftly.


	6. The Return of Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes back and everyone's emotions spill everywhere. So much cuddling it may rot your teeth.

By Sunday afternoon, you and Bucky were both fluttering around the Tower, anxiously awaiting Steve’s arrival. After a long morning of answering incessant questions about your work, you convinced Sam to spar with Bucky in the gym. Intent to relish in your break, you headed up to the communal kitchen and made coffee.

Bucky might’ve been hyper, but you were nervous. Once you saw Steve was in one piece, you rationed, you could calm down. Your hands were trembling as you measure out the grounds and as soon as you started the machine someone asked, “You sure coffee’s a good idea when you’re shaking like a leaf?” A hand landed on your shoulder and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Tony held up his hands at you in surrender and you would’ve said something snarky if you had any energy not being taken up by fear.

 He waited for you to get a cup and take a few sips before he asked, “What’s got you all riled up there, babe? I saw you pass off the Barnes baton to Wilson after he bounced around your work station all morning.” Leaning up against the counter, you sighed, “Bucky’s just _so_ excited and I get it, but it was kind of driving me nuts.” Tony wiggled his eyebrows at you and you pleaded, “ _Please_ don’t tell him I said that. Tony, please.” He promised, “I won’t tell Metal Man that he’s bugging you. I have no plans to feel his wrath today.”

The two of you stood sipping coffee in silence for a few minutes before he informed you, “You know, if you’re worried about Capsicle getting back in one piece, you can watch the quinjet progress. It doesn’t show you inside or anything, but it gives you coordinates, like the little maps on planes.” Your eyes widened, “Really?” He pulled it up on the living room TV, and bowed, “For you, my fretful assistant. To put your mind at ease.” Despite all of his bravado, you could see this was a gesture of kindness from Tony. You hugged him briefly and said, “Thank you,” before pulling away and sitting on the couch.

 After he recovered from your sudden outburst of affection, Tony grabbed his coffee and headed back toward the elevator, but threw back over his shoulder, “Just so you know, Jarvis can bring that up anywhere. You’ve got clearance, kiddo. Just ask him and it’ll be there.” And then he was gone. You watched the little quinjet inch along the screen and hoped that it would make it to you without a hitch.

~

Eventually, the thrill of watching the jet’s progress waned, so you went back to the lab and started filing Bruce’s findings on your computer. Technically you didn’t have to, but it kept your mind occupied. Bucky called you when they were 15 minutes away, “Hey, doll, where are you?” Hearing the smile in his voice, you responded, “Finishing up in the lab. I’ll be up there in a second.” He huffed at you, “Just leave it! Bruce’ll let you off the hook. I’m up here with Tony and I need someone else to talk to.” You laughed and vowed, “I’m shutting it all down, and then I’m heading up.”

He hung up and you did shut everything down and double-check it was all saved, but you weren’t actually planning on heading up until the quinjet had landed. You’d decided earlier that day to let Steve and Bucky have their reunion first. Bucky didn’t ask you to and he probably wouldn’t have even thought of it, but you thought he had more reason to miss Steve than you did. It seemed right and you could wait. So you rested your head on your arms for what you thought would be a brief respite from the lab’s bright lights, but you were asleep in seconds, unaware that the jet had landed.

 ~

Vaguely, you were aware that someone was moving you off the desk and lifting you up, but you didn’t open your eyes until you heard Bucky say something and realized; he wasn’t the one carrying you. The elevator doors shut and you opened your eyes to see Steve’s face smiling down at you and you squeaked, “Steve?” He laughed and looked a little teary-eyed when he said, “Yeah, it’s me, pretty girl. ”

The elevator dinged and you were on their floor, sitting next to Steve on the couch. You ran your hands over his face and arms gently, making a pained noise when you discovered the sizeable bruise on his left shoulder and a freshly cleaned cut across his forehead. “I’m okay,” he assured you, “They’ll be gone by the morning.” He looked worn-out, but he was smiling at you so much it had to hurt his cheeks. “You’re okay,” you repeated and he nodded. Carefully, not wanting to hurt him, you wrapped your arms around his middle and embraced him.

Steve knew he wasn’t really injured, so he hugged you fiercely, “I missed you.” And even though you didn’t want to cry, your breath hitched harshly when you said back, “I missed you, too.” Steve tugged you into his lap. “I’m here,” he whispered, sounding as broken up as you felt, “Everything’s all right.” At some point, Bucky dropped down next to Steve and you felt his hand on your back and his voice in your ear saying, “Breathe.” It was impossible for you to tell how long you’d been bawling into Steve’s shoulder, but when you pulled back, his eyes were red and so were Bucky’s.

 Drawing in a shaky breath, you asked, “So, how’d it go?” and Steve threw his head back in laughter. He explained what he could about the mission, which wasn’t much, and by the time he got around to asking what had happened the night he called, you'd moved to the floor and Steve and Bucky were spread out on the couch, limbs all over the place. After being squished together, it felt nice to stretch out and still be within reach of each other.

 Steve, to his credit, didn’t look angry after Bucky finished the story. In fact, he looked fondly between you two before he said with a sly grin, “You two were _falling apart_ without me. Man, do I feel special.” You sat up so you could roll your eyes as theatrically as possible at Steve. “We missed you, punk!” Bucky huffed indignantly, swatting at Steve. “Not sure why now that you’re here and making fun of us.” Shrugging your shoulders, you made a face at Bucky and he nodded like he knew what you were trying to say.

Steve screwed up his face in confusion, and it was so endearing that you gave in, “Of course we missed you, Steve. We need you.” He beamed at you and Bucky added, “ _I_ sure do ‘cause I’m not perfection like this dish here,” he gestured toward you and you could feel your cheeks heating up, “we struck gold with this one, Stevie. Did I tell you I didn’t have one panic attack while you were gone?” Cap’s mouth was hanging wide open now and he asked, awestruck, “You serious, Buck? Not one?” He bobbed his head in agreement, “Yeah ‘m serious. She’s a _godsend_.”

Oh god. Now they were _both_ looking at you like you were extraordinary, and you felt like your whole body was flushed in embarrassment. The worst (and best) part was that you knew from experience that they meant what they said. Every fiber of your being wanted to contradict them, to say you weren’t special, you weren’t precious, that you were barely even paying them back for their countless kindnesses toward you. You desperately wanted to believe them, but it was so hard to get out of your head long enough to take the compliments.

The conflict must’ve shown on your face because Steve tilted his head and his expression turned down. He slid onto the floor with you and asked, “What is it, sweetheart?” Bucky put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, watching you attentively. Words felt heavy and awkward in your throat, but you eventually wrung your hands and said, “I know you mean it. I do. But sometimes I still feel like you’re wrong. Like I’m not as good as you think I am.” Steve looked anguished, but you continued, wavering as words escaped you, “I _know_ that’s not true either, but it’s just, just…”

Bucky interrupted, “Hard to accept you’re worth all the fuss? You don’t feel like you’ve done enough to earn it.” Nodding, you added, “I’m sorry. You guys are _so_ nice. And I appreciate it and I want it, but, but it’s just tough to accept it sometimes.”

“First of all,” Bucky slipped onto the floor with you and Steve while he talked, “stop saying you’re sorry. It’s okay. Second, I understand. Trust me, I do. It’s _still_ hard for me once in a while to accept all of Steve’s praise even though I know he’s genuine, I mean look at him.” You did and Steve, as always, looked so earnest and concerned. Bucky grabbed his hand and squeezed it before he continued, “But you’re trying and that counts.”

Steve grinned at Bucky and interrupted, “And seriously. If you just being here made Bucky that calm for that long than you are worth any and all fussing because that’s never happened before.” Bucky agreed, “I told you, darlin’, you’re fuckin’ perfect. And,” he reached out to squeeze your forearm, “I’m so happy you’re here. Every single day.” Feeling your eyes get misty, you responded, “I love you guys.”

Sniffling, Steve pulled both you and Bucky to him and nearly crushed the pair of you in his grip. You noticed Steve’s breathing become labored and how he clung tighter. Bucky said quietly, “Hey, hey. It’s okay, Stevie.” When Steve started crying for real, you and Bucky adjusted yourselves so that Bucky could pull Steve’s head down onto his shoulder and push his fingers softly into Steve’s hair. You curled yourself into his lap and put an arm around his torso, resting a hand on Steve’s chest, rubbing back and forth soothingly. “We got you, Steve,” you whispered and he choked on a sob, holding on to both of you frantically.

~

After half an hour of huddling together on the floor, Steve was finally coming back to himself. Bucky whispered something to you, so you wriggled free of Steve’s grip. Bucky pulled Steve up onto the couch and into his lap, enveloping him as tightly as he could. You returned with bottles of water and a giant blanket, which you draped over the three of you before settling against the couch cushions and pulling Steve’s legs into your lap. He was too big for Bucky to wrap around completely, but he definitely tried and you were more than happy to help out, digging your thumbs into his tired feet and sore calf muscles.

Steve started to relax and, nuzzling against Bucky’s arm, he said, “Sorry. Did not realize all that was coming.” Bucky kissed him and admonished, “We already talked about not apologizing, _Steven_. And after a long mission like that, I totally saw it coming.” You smiled at them and Steve said, “If the whole lab thing doesn’t work out, you could totally make it as a masseuse.” You snorted, “Gee, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” before pinching his leg. Steve yelped and Bucky laughed, “Okay, okay you two. Keep it down and let’s order some food. All this emotion is making me hungry.”

~

After consuming way too much Chinese food and watching Steve and Bucky duke it out on Mario Kart, (you played some, too, but watching them was infinitely more amusing) they started a movie and you fell asleep almost instantly when the lights were off. Since Steve was still keyed up and not resting anytime soon, Bucky carried you to your bed and laid you down gently; careful not to jostle you too much. He pulled a blanket over you and took off your shoes before bending down to ghost a kiss over your temple. For a few precious seconds, he lingered in your doorway, admiring how young and delicate you looked in your sleep. He had a strange gut feeling about leaving you alone, but chalked it up to paranoia and closed your door as quietly as he could manage.

Turns out, Bucky’s “something’s off” radar was correct. He and Steve indulged in lazy kisses through most of the movie before Steve slumped over an armrest, clearly exhausted from his long time away. Bucky was unquestionably too fatigued to carry Steve, so he settled opposite him, legs tangled together, and fell asleep on the other armrest.

~

A few hours before sunrise, Steve was certain he was hearing his name. “S-ste-eve,” a voice stuttered very softly, almost imperceptible even in the quiet of the early morning. He opened his eyes and watched Bucky sleeping on the other end of the couch, but he seemed pretty conked out. Then again, still _very_ quiet, “P-please, don’t hurt him.” Whoever was talking was holding in sobs, causing the words to come out fragmented.

Cautiously, he disentangled himself from Bucky and crept down the hall. Sure enough, when he pressed his ear to the door, you were whimpering as if you were in pain, “Stop! Please.” Easing your door open, Steve’s enhanced eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness and discovered you coiled tightly around a pillow, trembling and weeping. Steve felt like his heart was breaking when you pleaded with someone he couldn’t see, “Don’t hurt him! Please,” and clutched the pillow tighter.

Steve sat on the bed next to you, shook your arm and said, “Wake up, honey.” You jerked awake and blindly threw the pillow in Steve’s direction, he caught it easily and let it fall off the side of the bed. Your wide, frightened eyes took a second to focus and see Steve in front of you. Breathing hard, you asked, “You’re here?” He nodded and you stared at him, unbelieving for a second. “You with me?” he asked, ducking his head to make eye contact.

For a few minutes, you continued to stare, eyes glazing over, until he reached out slowly and put a hand on your arm. Telegraphing his movements, Steve pulled you into his side and you went willingly, hiding your face in his shoulder. “They were hurting you,” you whispered. Steve ran his fingers through your hair and asked, “Who?” Shuddering, you answered truthfully, “I don’t know. But whoever they were, they were _hurting_ you. I could hear you screaming.” Steve tensed and you took several deep breaths, trying to calm yourself.

“What happened after that?” he asked tentatively, hoping that was the worst of it. After a moment of hesitation, you mumbled on after an exhale, “I told them to hurt me instead of you.” “Oh baby girl,” he murmured, laying back and pulling you down too, “none of that was real, okay? No one’s trying to hurt either of us.” Steve shifted onto his side so he could put both arms around you. He added, after a moment of thought, “Do you think if it happened for real, that Bucky wouldn’t have come charging in, guns blazing, and killed every one of those bastards?” The mental image was funny and comforting, so you half-laughed, half-sobbed and reminded yourself to _breathe_. “I got you,” Steve said calmly, rubbing circles into your back, “Go back to sleep. Bucky’s going to wake us up soon anyway.”

~

A few hours later,the sun coming through the living room windows woke Bucky up and he immediately noticed he was alone on the couch. He was on the verge of freaking out when he walked past your room and heard Steve say, "Buck?" Laughing at his own ridiculousness, he rolled onto your bed and burrowed into Steve’s side, tilting is head up to peck him on the cheek. He reached over Steve with his right hand to smooth your hair back and sucked in a surprised breath when he realized how hot your skin was. Turning his head slightly, Steve asked in a marginally panicked voice, “What?” Bucky sat up, wriggling his metal hand free and setting a few fingers against your forehead. The sharp contrast in temperature caused you to shiver in your sleep. “She’s burning up.” Steve bent down pressed his lips against your forehead and agreed, “Something’s definitely wrong.” 


	7. Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader is sick and the super soldiers take care of her.

Steve froze, "What do I do, Buck?" His fear earned him a chuckle and another kiss on his cheek, "C'mon pal, you used to be the sickest person in the world." Steve protested, "But, but I never took care of a sick person! You always took care of me." His indignation was causing his volume to rise and your eyes blinked halfway open on his other side. Bucky leaned over Steve and stroked his fingers through your hair. "Shh," he meant it mostly for you but a little for Steve, "Shh, shh, shh." You were in that weird place between waking and sleeping, so your brain was fuzzy and your head felt oddly hot, but the hand in your hair lulled you right back to sleep. 

Steve stared at Bucky, a mix of annoyance and admiration across his face, but he picked up where Bucky’s ministrations left off. Bucky lied back down, "It's not hard, Stevie. Fevers we understand, at least." Steve asked, calmer but still concerned, "What if it's more than that?" Bucky sighed, "Won't know until later anyway.” He laced his flesh fingers through Steve’s and gave them a light squeeze, “You and me can handle this." 

Bucky closed his eyes, but he could practically hear Steve's mind racing. He elbowed Steve until he spoke, "How do sick people act? What did I act like?" Bucky snickered a little, "You were somehow needy and pissy at the same time." Steve huffed, and Bucky poked him in the ribs, "But most people are either sad and miserable OR angry and prickly. Only you could be all of them at once and still keep me around." 

Ignoring the dig, Steve said, "Well that doesn't sound too bad. Plus neither of us can get sick, right?" "Right," Bucky agreed, "And if it seems worse than a fever we'll take her down to medical." With that, Bucky closed his eyes resolutely and headed off to sleep and Steve wasn't far behind. 

 ~

When you woke up a few hours later, you shot up in bed, disoriented by the pounding in your head. Someone stopped you from getting out of bed with a hand on your shoulder. "Hey now," Bucky's voice whispered, "It's all right." You felt like crying, but you suppressed it, knowing it would make your headache worse. "What's wrong with me?" You asked in a voice much too pitiful for your liking. "If I had to guess with the fever and the aches, probably just a bug." Cold metal fingers settled on your forehead and  _oh my god_ every part of your body felt like it was on fire. 

"I'm sick," you stated unhappily. Bucky laughed, "Seems that way, darlin', and I've got to go to a strategy meeting with Natasha, but Steve's here okay?" You started to nod but your neck hurt like hell and you could feel your face crumpling in spite of yourself. "Don't get upset," he said pacifyingly, leaning in to kiss your forehead, "I'll send Steve in here to sit with you."

In a few moments, Steve sat down next to you on the bed and handed you a glass of water and some painkillers. You swallowed them with what you hoped was a grateful expression. Turning your head took monumental effort, but you did so you could ask, "Do I have to stay in here?" He chuckled, "Got big plans?" "Steeeve," you whined, caring less the sicker you felt, "I'm lonely in here." He caved easily, "Okay, let's go." Standing up, he strode to the door and held it open as you got up slowly, every muscle screaming at you. Steve suddenly came back into your line of sight and asked softly, "Want me to carry you?" 

Normally you'd at least pretend to protest, but you felt _awful_ , so you lifted your arms up like a child. Steve picked you up, effortless as always, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. He stood up and stayed in place for a second, wrapping you in an solid, comforting embrace. "I'm so sorry you're sick," he whispered, adding when he felt your hot tears on his neck, "Oh don't cry, sweetheart. I'm going to take care of you, okay?" 

 ~

 By noon, you were shivering and Steve was rummaging in the closet for the fluffy, furry white blanket Pepper bought for you because you'd used hers once and told her how much you liked it. (It was seriously the best blanket ever and probably cost a ton. God bless Pepper.) When he found it, he came back and tucked it around you, smoothing your hair back from your forehead. "Geez you're still so hot," he murmured. "I feel like I'm freezing to death," you mumbled, snuggling under the blanket. Steve patted your cheek, "Just the fever.” He stood up and you made a sad sound in the back of your throat. He smiled and assured you, “I’m going to get a shower, then throw your sheets in the wash. Try to rest.”

You turned to face the back of the couch and, teeth still chattering, fell asleep. In an hour, you were burning up again and had to shove the blanket down to your feet. After you’d rolled over, you heard Steve humming to himself while rummaging around in a drawer and, upon finding whatever he was looking for, plopped himself on the floor in front of the couch. Sitting back against the coffee table, he looked at you thoughtfully and asked, “How are you feeling?” By way of response, you kicked the blanket further to the other end of the couch. “Jarvis?” Steve asked, looking toward the ceiling, “how’s she doing?” The computer responded, “Much the same, Captain. Temperature is still at 102.5 and everything else appears normal. Her bodily aches and headache don’t seem to be out of line with a normal virus.” Steve nodded, “Thanks, Jarvis.”

He chewed on the end of a pencil and continued fixing you with that serious look. “Are you going to draw me while I’m sick?” you asked, hearing the whine in your own voice. His hand started to sketch and he flicked his eyes from you to the paper, “Yes. Something about the light in here is just right.” You knew you were frowning, but you felt justified considering. “Do you have other drawings of me?” He didn’t stop sketching to answer, “Yes.” You let him draw for a few more minutes before asking, “Can I see them?” Steve smiled at you and promised, “When the fever’s gone, you can see them all. For now, just lay still and look pretty.” You smiled sheepishly at him and stayed unmoving, which wasn’t that hard considering you felt as if a truck had hit you.

Unfortunately, your headache returned, throbbing so hard you could practically hear it, and you felt your eyes getting damp. Steve set down his pencil with finality and looked up, satisfied, until he took in your expression. “Honey, what’s the matter? What hurts?” You closed your eyes and covered them with your hand, blocking out the harsh lights in the room.

He sat down on the couch and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. A few stray tears escaped your eyes involuntarily, and Steve wiped them away with gentle caresses of his thumbs. You sat up and leaned your head forward against his shoulder, trying to control yourself, feeling dumb for starting to cry _again_. Steve rubbed a hand up and down your back and asked softly, “How’s your head?” You whimpered, “It _hurts_.”

He put both arms around you and laid both of you back until you were resting your head against his chest, squished between him and the couch. “I’m sorry,” you sputtered, voice frail. Steve hushed you, petting your hair gently, “Nothing to be sorry for, baby.” Sniffling, you wiped at your eyes haphazardly with your sleeve. “I’ll stay right here with you, okay?” You nodded against him and he soothed, “You’re gonna be just fine. Try to sleep.” Even though you felt like you could burst into flames, letting him hold you made you feel a bit less miserable, so you did as he suggested and fell asleep.

~

It was 2:30 in the afternoon when Bucky came back into the apartment, practically exploding with worry. Despite Jarvis’ assurances that your temperature had gone down to 101 and Steve was very attentive, Bucky was still sick to his stomach. He knew you weren’t Steve and you were usually very healthy, but old habits died hard. Bucky made himself stop in the kitchen and scarf down the sandwich Steve had left for him on the counter before catching a small sound coming from the living room.

Moving silently, he peered over the couch and barely suppressed a laugh. You were in the same spot, cradled between Captain America and the couch. Steve was half hanging off, drooling onto the armrest. Bucky took out his phone and snapped a picture, sending it to all the other Avengers without a caption and he got several lol’s and some heart eye emojis from everyone except Tony, who sent back a puking face, and Bruce, who asked if your temperature had gone down.  Jarvis informed Bucky that it was still 101 and when he told Bruce, he replied _Good. If anything changes, let me know._ He still preferred the Brooklyn apartment to the Tower, but it was nice to have so many geniuses around when things went wrong. Bucky stole off to take a quick shower and you and Steve were none the wiser. _  
_

~  
  
Around 9:00pm that evening, you were propped up in Steve and Bucky’s bed with a book and water, tea, medicine, and sour gummy worms that Clint had dropped off for you, claiming “Sugar always helps!” on Steve's bedside table. You heard something crashing in the living room. Steve was in Tony’s workshop getting his shield looked at (he was probably going stir-crazy today), so you asked Jarvis what was going on. He explained, “Sergeant Barnes fell asleep on the couch and was having a nightmare, but now he is up and very distressed. And when he has an episode, rooms with weapons go into lockdown.” You paused for a second, then asked, “So Steve’s trapped?” Jarvis sounded as concerned as an AI could, “Yes, miss, and I should also inform you that Sergeant Barnes is,”  
  
The bedroom door slammed open and Bucky was standing there, panting, with wide eyes. He zeroed in on you and glowered, looking more like the Winter Soldier than you've ever seen. He'd only had one semi-bad flashback in the nearly six months you'd been living with them. All three of you had nightmares, but this seemed worse than a dream. You locked eyes with him, barely breathing. He stalked over and you froze, unable to move or react. His eyes looked panicked, not angry, and you felt a pang of sadness in your gut. He loomed over you and started frantically running his hands over your head, your neck, your shoulders. It felt like he was checking for injuries.  
  
He was mumbling frenziedly and you caught a few words in English, "Not sure...hurt you...my fault." He breathed out harshly and it sounded like he might cry. You decided to try talking quietly, "Hey, Bucky, it's okay. You didn't hurt me." His movements slowed and his voice sounded a bit more like him when he blurted harshly, "I hurt people. With this." He thrusted his metal arm in front of you and you could see tears pooling in his eyes. Carefully, so he could see every movement, you took his metal hand and laid it, palm up, on your lap. You could feel his eyes glued to you, so, very deliberately, you ran your hand up and down his arm, tracing the grooves. Clearly choked up, he asked, “You don’t think it’s hideous? That I’m a,” he swallowed thickly, “monster?” You shook your head and grasped the metal hand in both of your hands tightly, hoping he could feel it. “Bucky, you’re not. I swear, you’re not a monster. Not at all.”

“You’re not scared of it…of me?” he asked, lower lip trembling. “Never,” you assured him quickly, “never once since I’ve known you.” Bucky scrubbed his flesh hand over his face. “Bucky,” you said calmly, “You didn’t hurt me. You’d never hurt me. I trust you.” He looked unconvinced, but he sat down. Immediately, you heard metal plates shift outside, the Tower coming out of lockdown systematically. Bucky was definitely awake now, so you suggested, “Hey, how about you go back to the living room and I’ll come sit with you?” He looked apprehensive, so you amended, “I gotta use the bathroom, Buck. I’m coming. Fast as I can.” Once you reassured him again, he walked out slowly, but left the door open behind him.

You used the bathroom and dug through the drawers in Steve’s dresser for sweatpants because while you were sleeping, you’d sweated nearly through your pajamas. With hope in your voice, you asked Jarvis, “What’s my temperature?” Sounding as pleased as the computer possibly could, Jarvis said, “It is 98.9.” You could feel yourself smiling like a fool. Quickly, you changed out of your pajamas and into Steve’s sweatpants and one of Bucky’s shirts and pulled your hair into a bun.

~

Out in the living room, Bucky was sitting on one end of the couch staring at his arm, looking humiliated. Taking a seat on the other end, you tried in vain to get him to look at you. “Bucky?” you tried timidly and his eyes shifted toward you, “You want a hug?” He looked at you and you extended an arm in his direction. For a minute, he simply stared and you were afraid you overstepped. Steve normally handled Bucky’s nightmares and you’d helped, sure, but you’d never done it on your own. Bucky scooted over and, instead of snuggling up on your side, he grabbed a throw pillow and placed it on your lap and laid his head down. Stretching out along the couch and flopping over, Bucky hid his face in your stomach and wrapped his arms around your hips.

Tugging lightly, you undid his barely-holding-on ponytail and carded your fingers through his hair slowly, rhythmically. He was still tense, so you placed your other hand on his back, scratching lightly. Bucky’s shoulders started to shake and you realized he was crying. “Oh Bucky,” you whispered as his sobs grew louder, “it’s okay. You’re safe.” You continued murmuring soft encouragements as he cried himself out, hoping and praying that you were comforting.

After his tears subsided, Bucky made pitiful little sniffling noises that made _you_ want to start crying too, but you held yourself together. He mumbled something and you nudged him until he pulled back again, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so much _softer_ than Steve.” You laughed and Bucky head-butted your hand until you started petting his hair again.

A few minutes later, Steve came barreling in the door with the shield, cursing and looking ready to punch the next person who crossed him. Bucky flipped onto his back and the two of you watched Steve throw a hissy fit, sputtering, “Tony’s stupid fucking _Tower_ and it’s idiotic lockdowns. I was stuck in that lab for almost an hour with a one-way video feed so I couldn’t do anything to help at all and Tony tells me to _calm down_?”

The shield is carelessly tossed down and the _clang!_ reverberates off the wall. You unconsciously push yourself back into the couch cushions and Bucky sits up. He stares at you for a second, and then puts his hand, palm up, on your leg without a sound. Steve hasn’t so much as glanced your way since he came in and he hasn’t stopped shouting, so you take it. (You know he’s not mad at you, but yelling still doesn’t sit well with you plus you’re extra sensitive from being sick and Bucky’s episode.) Steve continues, oblivious, “I’m a superhero for god’s sake, and I couldn’t get out and make sure you guys were okay. I swear I’m going to kill him.”

He muttered something else about fighting Tony without his suit and made a frustrated growling noise before turning to see you, eyes wide and mouth pulled in a tight line. You were clutching Bucky’ hand, and he seemed pretty okay even though Steve knew he just had some sort of flashback. _Bucky always did better when he had someone to take care of_ , Steve thinks absentmindedly as he sits down on the other side of Bucky. “How are you feeling, Buck?” he asks quietly, trying (and failing) to read anything in Bucky’s face. The man in question turns to face Steve, taking an extra second to twist his arm so he wouldn’t have to let go of your hand.

“’m good, Stevie. Wasn’t actually a flashback like Jarvis thought, but I was pretty freaked out.” Steve looked very confused so you piped up from behind Bucky, “He thought he hurt me.” Bucky commiserated, “Yep. And when I realized she was fine and I didn’t do anything, I came back out of it.” Surging forward, Steve kissed Bucky before pulling him into a tight hug and whispering, “I love you, jerk. That was way faster than last time.” When they broke apart, Bucky detached from everyone and declared that he needed some air. He started out the door, tossing over his shoulder, “Now would be a great time to talk things out that need to be talked out.”

A few seconds of silence pass between you two before Steve said, “I’m sorry.” “No, no,” you interrupted, “It’s fine. I’m just weird about yelling.” Lifting your chin up to meet his gaze, Steve stated emphatically, “ _Nothing_ about you is weird. I should’ve known better.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours, making a surprised noise when he realized your skin wasn’t hot. You filled him in excitedly, “My fever broke!” Beaming, Steve cupped your cheek and sighed with relief, “I’m _so glad_ it wasn’t worse than a fever. I can’t handle this stuff.” Laughing, you chided, “You took _great_ care of me,” and held his hand in place. Steve stroked across your cheek with his thumb and you confessed solemnly, “I’ve never seen anything like that, Steve. I was afraid he was going to hurt himself.” Sighing, Steve said, “I know. I should’ve been here. But it looked like you handled it like a champ.”

Bucky reappeared out of nowhere and plopped down next to you, agreeing, “You’re amazing, sweetheart. Sorry for scaring you.” You tried to turn and say something, but he yanked you back into his lap, hooking his chin over your shoulder so you were both facing Steve. “All right, punk. We need details. Try to reign in your righteous anger,” Bucky teased, flashing a smile at Steve. Shaking his head, he obliged, telling you both how Tony had talked his ear off, keeping him trapped when Bucky woke up. His voice rose, but he very carefully kept himself from yelling and Bucky’s arms around you kept you grounded. It was then you realized why they were doing this; getting you used to normal, non-abusive anger (you were supposed to be doing that anyway, according to your therapist) while pulling Bucky out of his head with Steve’s story and someone to look after, since Bucky healed faster that way.

You felt comfortable for the first time in 24 hours, though you were still weak from the fever, and you leaned back into Bucky, who tightened his arms around you. “So,” Steve asked, finally calmed down himself after venting, “who’s hungry?”

~

After a late-night snack and having Jarvis perform a full-body scan on you that they insisted you have, you were all in their bed, taking turns holding each other while you watched another movie they hadn’t seen ( _The Princess and the Frog_ ). At first, Bucky curled up against Steve, hiding his face in Steve’s shoulder and breathing in anf out deep, even breaths, coming back into himself. Eventually, the need to get up and check the perimeter took over and he rolled out of bed, talking to Jarvis about security measures as he made his way methodically around their floor.

You were lying on your stomach, chin resting on your folded forearms, half-heartedly watching the movie when Steve slid down the bed to join you. Turning on your side, you let him bring you into an unyielding hug, crushing you to his chest and promising quietly, “I’ll never yell at you. I promise. I wasn’t mad at you and I know you know that, but I still should’ve had better self control. I’m so sorry.” You didn’t say anything in response, opting instead to just nestle closer and let yourself be comforted.

Bucky returned quickly and turned off the lights and the TV before he folded himself around Steve’s back. He asked, “So we’re gonna sleep the wrong way?” Steve laughed, “I think so, Buck. Unless you want to move all of us yourself?” You whined pathetically, “No moving.” Bucky tossed his flesh arm across Steve and rested his hand on your waist, “No worries, gorgeous. We’re not goin’ anywhere.” 

~

The next morning, Bruce insisted you all come down and eat breakfast so he could check you over. Steve fussed about it because he was still beefed at Tony. But he acquiesced when Bucky whispered something to him that you had absolutely _no_ desire to know about simply because of the smirk on his face.

 As soon as the three of you stepped out the elevator, you were bombarded with a giant blown-up photo of you and Steve sleeping on the couch together. You were mostly hidden under Steve’s arm and the blanket he'd pulled up, but Steve was clearly drooling over the armrest and probably snoring, judging by his wide-open mouth. His ears turned bright red and everyone fell over themselves laughing. There was really no way to know who was the culprit, but Steve blamed Tony and glared at him the entire meal. Clint signed to you that Natasha did it, and she winked at you surreptitiously. These people were outrageous, but you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

(Natasha slipped you a smaller version of the print, which appeared in a frame in the living room at the apartment a few days later. You knew Steve noticed when he groaned, “ _Why_ , guys? Why do you _hate me_?” and you decided to hide out in your room for the rest of the morning. Just in case.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a little carried away with the length of this chapter, but it was so fun to write! I added some things about the Avengers into it because a few of my faithful readers (I LOVE YOU BTW) pointed out that they haven't been in it much since the first couple of chapters. The next chapter will have very little actual Steve and Bucky and a TON of Clint, Bruce, and Sam. Tony, Natasha, Pepper, and possibly Thor will also make appearances. It's time to see how the reader does without her safety nets, isn't it? 
> 
> Again, I can't tell you how much it means to me when I get kudos and comments. I'm constantly amazed and flattered that people want to read my sappy stuff. <3 Right now, I'm thinking I'll stop after 10 chapters, but I'm not entirely certain. I've got at least two more in the works, so keep your eyes peeled!


	8. Super Soldiers Have to Work, Sometimes Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader stays at the Tower while Steve and Bucky are on a long mission together. She struggles, but luckily she's got some pretty super friends to help her out.

“I'm just saying, you seem kind of...pale and weak." If you glared at Bruce any harder you were positive he'd have a hole right through his face. He wasn't wrong; you did feel terrible. You hadn't been eating much and when you did sleep the past few days, you were plagued by night terrors. Steve and Bucky had been gone on missions together before, but never one this long. 

You were staying at the Tower at the insistence of well...everyone. You had their whole floor to yourself plus Jarvis, so you didn't really mind. The first week wasn't bad at all. You worked quite a bit with Bruce and had some time to work with Natasha on self-defense. Plus, they'd been able to Skype with you once and it put your heart at ease to see them alive and well. 

But something had gone wrong at the end of the second week. Natasha had to leave in the middle of the night to join them and all of it was kept very quiet. Tony assured you that they were fine, that Natasha wasn’t extracting, just lending her expertise. After she left, he'd started insisting you join him and whoever else was around for dinner. Jarvis, the _traitor_ , had probably told him you weren't eating enough. 

And now it was nearing the end of week 3 of what was supposed to be a 3-week mission initially and if Bruce was saying something, you must look like a wreck. Resigning yourself to whatever he had to say, you sat down at the table. "I'm not trying to be pushy," he said, choosing his words carefully, "but I think you should get new blood work done." That wasn't what you were expecting to hear. He continued, "I know you didn't have regular doctor visits before you moved in and you've had a couple of physicals, but I'm concerned about your iron levels." 

"You think I'm anemic?" You asked, truly interested now. He nodded. It would make sense. You'd been getting dizzy and feeling much more tired than even your level of sleeplessness was used to. "Would you do it?" You asked, fully expecting him to say no. He considered, "I could. But there are more qualified doctors downstairs." He regarded you for a second, and then asked suspiciously, "Unless one of them said something to you?" "No! Nothing like that," you assured him, "I'm just, I'm kind of terrified of needles." 

Clearly your confession threw him a little because he sat down the tablet he was flipping through. "But you've had shots here, right? A flu shot like two weeks ago?" You shook your head, "I got the mist. Like a child." He was staring off past your head, lost in thought. Tired of this conversation, you gave him an out, "Forget I asked, Bruce. It's fine. I can muscle through it. I'm good." Pushing yourself back from the table, you turned to the desk and started typing in some leftover data. 

Bruce got up a few minutes later and you nearly jumped when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Looking up at him curiously, you saw him clear his throat and say, "I'd be happy to do it." He squeezed your shoulder, and then he was back on his bench. You turned to smile your thanks and he added, "I'm the only one allowed to throw fits around here, so if it'll help you stay calm, I’m happy to help." “Oh Bruce, I haven’t even _begun_ to throw fits yet,” you warned and Bruce clutched his heart dramatically.

~

Around 7:00 that night, you were about to head down from your floor (you'd lived here for nearly a month, might as well own it) to eat with whoever was around when Jarvis informed you that Tony had to go out of town for a few days to make an appearance at a convention in L.A., Bruce was working, and Clint was testing out some new arrows. Tony had made sure your kitchen was restocked and promised to tell Bucky _all_ about you not eating if Jarvis gave a bad report. That put enough fear in you to motivate you to fix a grilled cheese for dinner and eat all of it plus an orange and an Oreo. 

Hoping that would appease him, you decided to watch Netflix mindlessly until you were unable to avoid sleep. About midnight, you woke yourself up snoring and headed to bed. Somehow, the nightmares were worse tonight than they had been. You must've cried out in your sleep because you heard Jarvis' voice asking, "Would you like me to call someone for you? You're vital signs are showing high levels of distress." Denying Jarvis' offer, you curled up in a ball and clutched your pillow, forcing yourself to take deep breaths. 

Eventually, Jarvis spoke to you again. "I'm so sorry, miss, but I had to inform someone of your distress even if you don't want visitors. Mr. Stark programmed it before he left." Turning onto your back, you sighed, "Who did you tell?" "Agent Barton since no one is to wake Dr. Banner unless he requests it," Jarvis responded, sounding as apologetic as an AI could. "What did he say?" you asked. "He asked to see your room's feed, but has not left his floor." 

For a reason you couldn't explain, you burst into tears and turned yourself back over so you could sob into the mattress. Everything  _hurt_ and crying seemed the only thing you could do, regardless of who was watching. After your sobs died down into whimpers, you heard something strange; your living room TV was on. You were pretty sure who it was, so you got up and splashed cold water on your face, not really caring how you looked. Opening a drawer, you found a sweatshirt that still smelled like Steve and put it on before emerging. 

As you suspected, Clint was sitting on your couch with a giant bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. He waved half-heartedly at you when you walked into his line of vision. He didn't say anything, so after puttering around and grabbing a bottle of water for each of you from the fridge; you cautiously sat down next to him. He accepted the water gratefully and drank half of it before grabbing a handful of popcorn and mindlessly munching on it.

After his current episode of _Top Chef_ ended, he turned to you and asked, "So?" You blinked back at him. "Listen, you don't have to say anything, but I'm definitely staying here for awhile. You can talk or not talk or go back to bed or whatever, but I'm not moving from this couch until it's time for breakfast." He reached out and patted your leg before turning his attention back to the TV.

Bringing one knee up under your chin, you watched the show with Clint until the second commercial break, when you permeated the silence, "So I guess you know I had a nightmare?" Clint side-eyed you before he nodded, "Yep. I saw and heard the end of it." After a beat he asked, "How often do you have 'em?"  Your voice sounded small when you said, "Usually once or twice a month, but it's been every night for the past week. They're worse when I'm alone." Clint pressed his shoulder against yours and whispered, "You're not alone, kiddo." 

Surprised, you looked over at him and he looked so sincere that you almost cried again. You weren't good at hiding your emotions, so Clint asked kindly, "You miss the old guys, huh?" You nodded and he continued, "I know I'm not them, but I want you to know I'm here. Y'know, if you need someone." Nodding again, you looped your arm through his and laid your head on his shoulder. "Thank you," you said softly. He patted your head a little awkwardly and turned back to the screen.

Another episode in and you were feeling exhausted. Releasing Clint’s arm from your death grip, you grabbed a blanket and made yourself comfortable against the other armrest. Right as you were drifting off, you jerked up, panicking for just a second until you remember where you were. Clint watched you until you lay back down, then he curled a hand around your ankle, rubbing his thumb in slow circles and whispering, “It’s gonna be okay.” The warm weight of his hand was comforting enough to lull you to sleep along with the sounds of cursing chefs and mumbling from the archer next to you about how the judges, “don’t know their shit.”

~

Sunlight streaming in woke you slowly, but when you tried to move, you realized your legs were trapped. Craning your neck, you saw Clint wrapped around your calves, bent at a painful-looking angle with his head resting on your thigh. His weight on your legs wasn’t uncomfortable, and, to your surprise, it was actually calming. And Clint looked…handsome while he slept with his slightly tousled blonde hair and day-old stubble on his chin. You’d always liked Clint a lot, especially since he discovered you were a certified ASL translator and practically exploded with joy. Having someone to communicate with secretly was always entertaining and he clearly cared about you a lot. He’d offered to kill for you on multiple occasions, but this was the first time you’d stopped to really _look_ at Clint.

He wasn’t as tall as Steve, but probably in between Tony and Bucky, if you had to guess. Unlike your super soldier roommates or Thor, he wasn’t overtly muscular, but, upon closer observation in the morning light, his arms were pretty stellar. He was a little clumsy, sure, but he was very sweet and fiercely loyal to his friends.  You forced yourself out of your dopey haze and wished Natasha were there so you could ask her whether or not this was a good train of thought.

As much as you wanted more time to think, you were really hungry and your growling stomach woke Clint up and he unfolded from you with a loud crack that had to have been painful. He rubbed the back of his neck and yawned, “I didn’t crush you, did I?” You shook your head, “Nope. I’m fine,” and smiled over at him. He grinned with his eyes shut and you felt like you should say something, so you went with the obvious, “Thank you, Clint, for, you know, staying with me.” He winked at you and said, “No problem.”

A self-conscious silence passed between the two of you, and you decided to act like a human and speak. “So,” you asked, “is there any breakfast food downstairs? Tony shopped for me and I don’t think he bought me anything but vegetables and frozen fruit, and, for some reason, three jars of peanut butter.” Clint chuckled and stood up, offering a hand to you and pulling you up with him. “I know we at least have lucky charms and pizza.” Smiling, you walked toward the elevator, “Then what are we waiting for?”

~

Later that afternoon, Tony arrived to find you and Clint playing Super Mario Bros with Bruce cheering you on from a nearby armchair. Sam was on his way as well, but unfortunately, not to join the fun. Tony poured himself a drink and went over Natasha’s words in his mind one more time before he interrupted the game. “Clint,” he started, trying to joke, “you are clearly beaten. So can we take a break? I need to share some developments with you guys.” You paused the game instantly and turned worried eyes on Tony. You knew something was wrong by the careful way he was holding himself. You didn’t even have time to run through worst-case scenarios before he was bursting out,

“Rogers, Barnes, and Romanoff are on their way back, but they’re going straight to medical.” He paused and took a long drink. No one said a word, but you could feel Bruce and Clint staring at you. Tony continued, “Now nobody’s dying, but,” he seemed to struggle for the words, but you’d already guessed by his hesitancy. “Steve did something stupid, didn’t he?” you asked, a note of dread in your voice. Looking impressed and sad, Tony filled in the details, “Yep. Barnes was surrounded by agents of some evil organization, not Hydra I’m told, and he was fine, but Steve jumped in and drew more attention to them so he got the brunt of their attack.”

The heavy weight on your chest forced you to put your head in your hands and try to breathe. “How bad is it, Tony?” you asked, fighting with every ounce of waning strength not to cry or scream. “Bullet lodged in his thigh, three broken ribs, a cracked skull, a few broken fingers, and he lost a lot of blood,” Tony listed off the injuries quickly, like the thoughts were burning him, “There may be more, but that’s what Buck and Nat could identify.”

Forcing yourself to breathe was becoming more difficult, and Sam arrived as Tony was listing Steve’s injuries. You knew there was a hand on your back, probably Clint’s. “Steve will be okay,” Tony said somewhat confidently, “the serum’s already working on waking him up.” Your head shot up and Tony instantly regretted his wording, “Is he not awake now?” you asked, voice scarily even for how worked up you were. “He was unconscious for a few hours, but he’s smiling when Bucky talks and grimacing when they mention the medical bay, so he’s coming back around.”

If you weren’t hyperventilating before, you certainly were now. Clint’s hand remained steady, so you tried to focus on that. Sam was squatting down in front of you, talking in a low, calm voice, “Look at me.” You shook your head. “Okay, then can you at least listen?” You nodded. “Okay. You are panicking. And that’s completely understandable, but you need to bring your breathing back down.” You nodded your head again. “Good. Now breathe in on three counts, out on one.” You obeyed and he had you do it twice more before you looked up.

Sam plopped himself down on your other side. “They’ll be here in a few minutes,” Tony said, “But the doctors will be ready to start in on Cap immediately to set bones and dig out the bullet. It’ll probably be a few hours before you can see them.” With his announcements finished, Tony was off, muttering to himself about emotions.

~

Your hands were shaking as you turned the doorknob, unsure of what the other side would hold. Bruce had warned you that Steve looked terrible and Bucky was on the edge of a breakdown, and Bruce never lied to you. Bucky was pacing back and forth across the room, mumbling to himself in an English-Russian jumble that seemed to make sense to him. When the door clicked shut behind you he jumped, hand immediately reaching for a knife that wasn't on his back. He deflated when he recognized you, but he backed into a corner when you stepped his way.

"Bucky?" you asked quietly, "Are you okay?" Bucky laughed and it was a mean, horrible sound. He gestured toward Steve and spit out, "What do you think?" You hadn't really looked at Steve until this moment and it was all you could do not to burst into tears. He was pale, with a bandage wrapped around his head and his waist and hooked up to countless tubes and wires, huge bruised and gashes tainting his skin. He was breathing and his heart was beating, though.

Turning back to Bucky, you said, "I thought he was awake on the jet." Bucky laughed again, and he sounded so close to losing it, "He almost was, then these fucking doctors sedate him and he hasn't woken up yet. He didn't need to be hurt." Bucky's voice wobbled and you wanted to reach out, but he was tucked in on himself, close enough to Steve's bed to touch it. "I was fine, but noooo, Mr. Righteous has to try to save me and almost died. God, what is wrong with him?"  
  
Bucky sounded angry now and you took a step back. He rose up to his feet, fists balled, "Is he ever gonna stop this shit?" Bucky practically yelled, looking at you for an answer. You stood frozen to your spot and sputtered, "I-I don't know.” Bucky lowered his fists and scowled, speaking in fast Russian you couldn't understand.  
  
You tried to talk to him one more time, pleading, "Bucky." He whipped around and yelled, "WHAT?" "Nothing, I’m sorry. I’ll go." And you turned and fled from the hospital room, only masking it to the other side of the hallway before sliding down the wall, breathing hard.

You asked Jarvis to send Sam, who was apparently already on his way with Clint in tow. He squatted down in front of you and asked, "Be honest. Did Bucky hurt you?" You looked up and shook your head, "No, no of course not. I'm fine." Sam looked skeptical, so you sat up straighter and let him look at you. "He's not having an episode Sam. He's mad and scared, but he wouldn't let me talk, much less help. I thought maybe you could calm him down."

Sam did something then that you weren't expecting. He leaned forward and held your face in his hands, “Don’t let this make you break down, okay? This is rough on everyone, you included. I will straighten his ass out, but you know Barnes didn’t mean it. He and Steve are pretty attached to you by now. We all are.” Clint nodded his agreement and Sam tipped your forehead against his for a second before straightening up and walking into the room.

Clint nudged you with his foot and said, "You should get up. This floor is gross, even by my standards." You accepted a hand up and he pulled you immediately into a hug because, apparently, everyone was going to be emotional and affectionate today. You were so overwhelmed that you barely stopped yourself from crying, settling instead for taking a shaky breath. Clint gripped you tight and whispered, “It’s gonna be okay. I promise,” before releasing you and moving to lean against the wall beside you.

~

Nearly half an hour passed before Sam emerged and held the door open, motioning you inside. Bucky was sitting in a chair, looking at his lap, but he seemed calm and alert, which was definitely a good start. Walking slowly, you took the seat next to him and before you could say anything, Bucky said, “I’m so sorry.” Turning, you saw he was teary-eyed, and any apprehension you had dissolved. “Buck,” you tried, but he cut you off, “No, don’t say it’s okay because it’s not. I was an asshole.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah,” you agreed, “you kinda were.”

His head shot up and you smiled nervously at him. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, he laughed, “So you’re not…upset?” You shook your head; feeling like you might burst into tears and prove yourself wrong. “Hey, hey,” Bucky entreated, “don’t cry, baby girl.” Blinking up at the ceiling, you managed to push them back for the time being. “C’mon. Come over here,” Bucky said, reaching for you. So you got up and he drew you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you and you rested your head against his collarbone. For a few minutes, you just sat, feeling a strange mix of relief and sadness. They were back alive, but not whole. Bucky permeated the silence, “You okay, darlin’?” “Yeah,” you choked out, “I just missed you guys.”

And the tears you’d been holding back all day finally broke free.

“Shh,” Bucky soothed, “I know. We missed you too.” While you hid your face in his neck, Bucky rubbed your arm and kissed the top of your head. “Is Steve,” you stammered, “is he really going to be okay?” Again, he said softly, “Shh, shh,” his flesh hand settled on your neck and his thumb stroked your cheek, wiping away tears. “He will be. The serum’s working and they gave him a max dose of pain killers, but he has a lot of injuries. Stupid fucking punk.” And if you clung a little more and Bucky kept his hand on your face so he could know for sure that you were breathing, neither of you said anything about it.

~

A few hours passed and you hadn’t moved from your spot. Bucky was asleep, but you were just resting, listening to Bucky’s heartbeat and watching Steve’s chest fall up and down. When they were on missions, they went days without sleep. With Steve still recovering, there was no reason for all three of you to be awake.

 Bruce came in and checked everything in near silence, then wrote you a note that said, _Steve should be waking up in the next hour. If he isn’t awake in 2, call me._ You nodded at him and he smiled warmly at you before leaving noiselessly. In ten minutes, Steve was blinking awake slowly, taking in his surrounding before grunting in either pain or frustration and turned his head to the side. A wide, goofy smile broke across his face when he saw you and Bucky and you nudged your sleeping companion and pointed at the bed.

“Buck,” Steve croaked, reaching his hand out sluggishly. Before you could even try to get up, Bucky grabbed onto the side of the bed with his metal arm and pulled the whole chair, you included, up next to the bed so he could take Steve’s trembling hand. “Heya, Stevie,” Bucky said, stroking his thumb across Steve’s wrist. “How do you feel?” you asked. “Much better now that I can see your pretty face,” he drawled, sounding more than a little loopy. “Is he talking about me or you?” you questioned and Bucky shrugged. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed and he said with decisiveness, “Both. Both of you are pretty.”

You had to cover your face with Bucky’s jacket to keep from laughing, but your shoulders still shook. Bucky had a better poker face than you, but his mouth was quirking up at the corner just a bit. “I’m feeling _good_ ,” Steve continued as if he just remembered your question, “The only thing that still hurts is my leg. Stupid bullets.” The chest you were leaning against tensed and you snaked a hand behind Bucky’s head and began running your fingers through his hair. In seconds, his shoulders relaxed and he turned to press his lips to your forehead in silent thanks. “Bucky?” Steve asked, still sounding far off. “Yeah, Stevie?” Bucky asked in return, biting his lip to keep from smirking. “I love your hair. It’s so long and sexy. My sexy, scary, hairy boyfriend. I’m a lucky guy.” Steve closed his eyes and grinned.

Looking up at Bucky, you whispered, “Sexy, scary, hairy?” He pinched your side and you yelped. Steve’s eyes opened and he said, with an exasperated look on his face, “Don’t hurt _her_ , Bucky, god. Hurt the bad guys, not people we love.” Steve flopped back down on the bed and promptly started snoring. Both of you giggled as quietly as you could.

“Can we go somewhere when Steve gets better?” you asked. “Anything you want, doll” Bucky drawled, closing his eyes too. “Tony’s got a house in Hawaii,” you suggested. Bucky smiled down at you affectionately, “I love you, baby girl,” he said, resting his head against yours. “I love you too,” you said, letting your eyes fall shut. Before you could fall asleep, Bucky tapped your nose and you opened your eyes.

“We’re already packed aren’t we?” he asked, looking at you accusingly. “Yep,” you said smugly, “And there’s a jet waiting when we’re ready.” Bucky rolled his eyes and pinched you again. You had to cover your mouth to keep from waking Steve and Bucky cackled, “You’re the fucking best, you know that?” Sighing, you whispered and patted his cheek, “I know.”

Stretching your legs out onto the bed, you tucked your feet under Steve’s thigh, still warm as always. “You know what Sam told me?” Bucky asked, encircling your waist with his flesh arm to keep you close. Hoping it was anything good, you said, “Nope. What?” He replied gently, “You haven’t been sleeping great.” Craning your neck back so you could see his face, you groaned, too tired for a discussion, “Yeah. I don’t sleep that great when you guys are gone. I need my giant personal heater. I’m spoiled.” He chuckled and tightened his grip, “We are too. Steve said a few days ago that he wanted to carry you around with him for a week so he could cuddle you as much as he wanted. Apparently I’m not as fun to tote around.” That mental picture made you snicker.

Feeling warm and content, you reminded him, “We are going on vacation. He’ll have plenty of time to snuggle with _both_ of us. I don’t have to walk at all if you guys just _insist_ on carrying me everywhere like a princess.” You felt yourself slipping closer to sleep and Bucky hummed, murmuring to you in Russian, “Спать моя принцесса." He added when he heard your breathing even out,“Я буду держать вас в безопасности и тепле. Спать, принцесса."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The length of this chapter got way out of hand, but I've been having a rough past few weeks, so it took me longer to finish. Thank you for being so patient! 
> 
> Translation of Russian phrases (from good old Google translate)
> 
> Спать, моя принцесса- Sleep, my princess
> 
> Я буду держать вас в безопасности и тепле. Спать, принцесса.- I will hold you safe and warm. Sleep, princess.
> 
> I'm definitely planning on having Bucky speak sweetly in Russian in a later chapter because it's so CUTE. I'd die.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, this chapter took a lot out of me. A lot of the fears discussed here are very near and dear to my own experience. Hope you enjoy it!

_Buzz Buzz._

Your phone vibrated in its spot on the table and Bucky reached over to check it. "It's from Bruce," he said; spoon clinking against the cereal bowl he was eating out of. "What does it say?" you asked from across the room, where you were waiting for your oatmeal to heat up. "Ummm, it says:

 _I haven't forgotten today is Friday. Drink lots of water and I'll meet you in the exam room on the 5th floor at 2:00._   

You'd at least had the presence of mind to get your food out and sit at the table before Bucky asked, "What's he talking about?" Then another text came in and he read it out loud,

_By the way, have you told Steve and Bucky about this? You should. They could help! Just a suggestion._

Pushing your bowl toward the middle of the table, you let your head fall onto your folded arms and groaned. "Doll, what is he talking about? What haven't you told me?" You didn't raise your head and he tugged gently on your ponytail. "C'mon. What's up? Why does he need to examine you?" As you were opening your mouth to speak, Jarvis piped up, "Captain Rogers is awake and has requested that you two come to see him as soon as you can. He says he is bored." Bucky told Jarvis, "Tell Steve we'll be there soon and not to even think about getting up." 

"Spill it," he said, clanking his mug down onto the table. Sighing, you told him, "Bruce thinks I'm anemic." Bucky looked confused, so you clarified, "Iron deficient. It's not a big deal, but he has to do a blood test. If I do have it, I'll just take supplements." Resting back in his chair, he chuckled, "Well that doesn't sound too bad." 

Willing yourself not to get upset, you sat up and tried to eat your oatmeal, but you couldn't really taste it. After three bites, you put your spoon down and folded your arms. Bucky was watching you, so you didn't try to get up, knowing he'd stop you anyway. After a long silence during which he finished his cereal and his coffee, watching you stare at the wall and blink your eyes rapidly. He finally pushed his bowl away and sat sideways in his chair, facing you. "Okay, what's the matter? There's something you're not telling me. Granted, I  _could_  find out from Bruce, but I'd rather you tell me." 

You could feel yourself getting hot behind the ears, a flush which would extend to your neck and cheeks if you weren't careful. Sitting next to you was the Winter Soldier for goodness' sake. He and Steve fought evil organizations and monsters and aliens and you were scared of  _needles_. You were pretty sure you'd never been so ashamed of yourself. Bucky waited for you to answer, the only indication he was getting impatient was the tapping of his boot on the kitchen floor. 

When you finally confessed, you had to whisper or else you'd cry, "I'm scared of needles. Like really, really scared." He didn't laugh or gasp. He just asked, "Are you really?" You nodded, trying hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He lifted your chin up and smiled kindly at you, "Don’t be embarrassed. If you’re scared, you’re scared. It’s okay.” Before you could stop to think, you launched yourself in Bucky's direction and he caught you.

He hugged you tightly, saying reassuringly, "Listen, honey, you don't have to be afraid to tell me or Steve anything, okay? We're not going to make fun of you, I swear."  He stroked your hair until you managed to murmur, "I don’t think I can do this." Bucky hummed and continued petting your hair, “Let me help, okay? I’ll go talk to Bruce and we’ll figure it out. It’s gonna be fine.” You nodded but didn’t let go, and Bucky seemed content to let you stay put until Jarvis piped back up, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Captain Rogers is threatening to come upstairs and see what is taking you so long, his words.”

Somewhat reluctantly, you sat back up and Bucky said, “We better go before he hurts himself _again_.” He started toward the elevator and you did too, only pausing momentarily to grab the backpack you’d set by the door. You got a cocked eyebrow for that, but you didn’t give in to the silent inquiry, choosing instead to hook your arm into his metal one and hope that he was right, that you could overcome your fear and get the blood work without losing it.  

~

Steve had his disappointed Cap expression on when you went into the room, so Bucky climbed into his bed and promptly kissed it off his face. You rolled your eyes at their glee and plopped the backpack down on Steve’s legs. “This is for you when you’re done making out,” you said with a hint of disgust. It was nice, though, to see Steve feeling and acting more like himself. He’d been in the same room for two days and, the more the serum worked, the more restless he got. The doctors wanted him to stay one more night, then you guys could leave tomorrow morning on your vacation, which Tony swore could last at least 10 days without incident.

Once he could tear himself away from Bucky, Steve looked at the bag curiously. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to open it, dummy,” Bucky chided and he’d look more serious if he wasn’t half-dazed with relief that Steve was actively affectionate again and not just lying there or worse, wincing every time he moved as he had been the previous morning. Steve slowly unzipped the bag and gasped while pulling out his old sketchpad and pencils along with a new one and some fancy pens you hoped were something he’d like, along with a book you knew he hadn’t read ( _The Outsiders_ because you were sure he hadn’t read it and you loved it), some candy, and a handheld Scrabble game that Clint _insisted_ Steve would like because of his grandpa-ness. 

When he looked up, Steve had tears in his eyes and you were temporarily afraid he was upset, but he choked out, “Thank you. This is so nice.” Bucky put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and looked a bit startled as well so you asked, “What is it, Steve?” He wiped at his eyes and said, “It’s great, I’m just, emotional I guess.” He laughed and Bucky said, Brooklyn accent bleeding through a bit, “No kidding, pal. Almost gave us twin heart attacks.” Steve turned to you and held his arms out, beckoning you to come closer. You prayed silently that the bed was reinforced since two hulking super soldiers were already cramped into it, but you knelt on the edge and put your arms around his neck.

He held on longer than you expected, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He rocked you a little and uttered a small, “Thank you,” before clearing his throat and adding, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But I’m so glad it happened. I love you.” You looked at Bucky over Steve’s shoulder and he was tearing up, too. “I love you, too,” you said, rubbing his back, “I’m so thankful you’re okay.” Bucky sniffled loudly and suddenly he was hugging too and you were all a sniveling, sobbing disaster.

Momentarily, the hitching breaths died down and you pulled away and grabbed the backpack, “Okay, let me explain what’s in here.” Steve sat back and nodded, so you set out the old sketchpad and pencil with the new one and the pens. “The hipster looking guy at the art supply place said these were amazing for ink drawings. Though, he was flirting with me _a lot_ so I don’t know if it’s true or if he was just hoping I’d stay if he explained the different types of pens.” Bucky’s eyes snapped to you, “What store? What hipster guy?” You chuckled, “It was no big deal, he was very nice and he gave me a discount because of my beauty,” at the word beauty you flipped your hair, “so it worked out.”

Steve was smiling a sappy smile at you, “Well who wouldn’t be distracted by you?” You shook your head at him in disapproval, but Bucky picked up, “Those eyes could kill a man, Steve, don’t you think?” Steve agreed and asked, “So what did you think of him?” He and Bucky both leaned forward and you put your hand up, laughing, “Enough, you two. He was fine, I guess. Not really my type.” They shared a look and you suppressed a groan, “Who is your type, doll face?” Bucky asked. Your mind immediately went to Clint but there was no way you could tell them about that yet, so you pretended to think before answering, “I don’t know honestly, but he was definitely _not_ it.” They let it go after that and you warned Steve that _The Outsiders_ was sad and somehow you ended up agreeing to read it to him, which you suspected was less about his eyes being tired (a flimsy excuse) and more that he didn’t want you to leave. He and Bucky both puzzled over the Scrabble game and shared the Skittles you’d brought before Bucky looked at you and raised his eyebrows and you waved him on, knowing what was coming.

As he was telling Steve about your earlier conversation, you texted Bruce and somehow he already knew and was planning to meet Bucky in half an hour to talk before Bucky went to spar with Natasha and go down to the shooting range with Clint and Sam. Steve’s eyes widened and he looked between you and Bucky with a sadness you didn’t like to see on his face. Before Bucky was even done talking he reached for you, so you hopped back on the bed and let him position you so your head was laying back against his shoulder, half on his lap and half on Bucky’s. He leaned his head against yours and said, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. We’ll find a way to make it better, I promise.”

Bucky snorted, “We nothing. I will figure something out and you will stay put, soldier.” Bucky stood up and stretched before leaning over to kiss Steve. Then he turned his eyes on you and ordered, “You do not leave this room until I come back, you got it?” “Got it,” you said, feeling the tiniest bit intimidated until he leaned his forehead against yours and said, “I love you, and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you on my watch, okay?” As he was walking toward the door and you and Steve called after him at the same time, “Love you!” He waved over his shoulder and you high-fived Steve.

~

The time you’d been dreading arrived, 2:00pm and you were walking (sulking) behind Bucky toward the room where you’d meet Bruce. Bucky hadn’t told you anything he and Bruce talked about except some kind of numbing cream that he’d had you put on the inside of your left arm. When you walked in Bruce was standing there, tapping the needle and it took all of your willpower not to run. Bruce addressed you, “Hey! So I told Bucky not to tell you anything so I could tell you as it’s happening and you wouldn’t have time to freak out about it. You just stared at Bruce, your only thought that that long, sharp metal would go in _your_ skin and take _your_ blood and you felt bile rising in your throat.

“So I’m going to have Bucky sit in this chair,” he motioned to a chair that only had one arm,” and face the wall.” Bucky did as he was told and you stood there, perplexed. Bruce continued, “It’s not a good idea to physically restrain someone who’s afraid of needles because they could have a significant drop in blood pressure, which is dangerous and could land you in a hospital bed if we’re not careful. We also don’t want you to pass out for much the same reasons.”

You nodded, “That’s happened before.” Bruce kept going, “So, if you’re okay with it, I want you to sit in Bucky’s lap facing him and lay your left arm on the side of the chair. The less you can see, the better.” You sat and laid your left arm out as instructed, feeling your lower lip trembling and your whole body tensing. All you could think was _needles_ , _needles in your skin_ , _sharp needles_ , _needles_.

Bucky’s metal hand gripped your waist, ripping you out of your head for a second. Slowly, he brought his flesh hand up to cup your cheek, smiling when your eyes focused on him. “There you are, beautiful,” he said gently, “You wanna look at me or lay down?” Speaking seemed impossible, so you just laid your head on his flesh shoulder, putting his head between you and whatever Bruce was doing. Bucky’s metal arm encircled your waist snugly and tugged your forward so you could feel him breathing and know you weren’t alone. His other hand was resting on the back of your head, and he asked, “Is this okay? You want me to do anything different before I tell Bruce to start?” You squeaked out, “Both arms,” and thankfully Bucky filled in the blanks and wrapped his other arm firmly around you as well.

Immediately, you felt your body go limp. Bucky asked, voice slightly panicked, “You all right, darlin’? Still with me?” You stammered out, “Yeah. I’m good.” Bucky said something to Bruce and you felt him swab your arm with alcohol. Burying your face in Bucky’s neck, you squeezed your eyes shut. “Good, good. You’re doing so good,” Bucky repeated quietly. “Okay,” you could hear Bruce’s voice, “I’m going to take your blood now and I need to get a few vials, so just hang tight and I’ll wrap your arm up when we’re done.” Suddenly, you felt the sharp stab of the needle going in and your eyes filled with tears at the same time your lungs forgot how to expand.  

“Breathe,” Bucky pleaded calmly, “You gotta breathe with me. Copy my breath, in and out. You’re okay.” You wanted to scream at him that you were _not_ okay, not at all. Was your blood the consistency of corn syrup? Why was it taking so long? And the needle felt way bigger than it looked and oh my god, it’s in your skin. _Inside it_. You breathed out a harsh breath against Bucky’s neck and he must’ve known you were close to losing it because he pulled out the big guns and started murmuring Russian to you, “Будьте спокойны, принцесса.” Bruce finally pulled out the damn needle and began wrapping up your arm while Bucky continued, “Ты в порядке. Я прямо здесь”

As soon as Bruce was finished, you could breathe normally again, but you also wanted to cry for a week. Bucky said something to him and asked you if you wanted to go lie down or go see Steve and, obviously, you picked Steve. Bruce wanted you to stand up on your feet and rotate your arms, so you did everything he asked, staring at the wall and making your face as neutral as possible. Finally, he pronounced you okay to leave and promised to come check your blood pressure in a few hours.

You got into the elevator before you let your eyes close and rested your head against the wall. “You okay?” Bucky asked and you mumbled, “Yeah I’m good. Thanks for, you know, going with me.” He hummed and took a step closer to you, twirling a strand of your hair. “Anytime, darlin’,” he assured you, scratching lightly at the back of your head. You felt a little like a cat, but it was so nice you didn’t care.

“You wanna know something?” he asked when the elevator dinged and you stepped off, walking side by side down the hall. “Always,” you said, smiling quirking an eyebrow at him. “Earlier I was going through what you packed for us and the food you had sent to the house and I was very impressed that I only had to add like 2 things to the bags,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders and leaning in close, “but something occurred to me. You know what it was?” His face was very close to yours so you only had to shake your head minutely for him to tell you, “Steve doesn’t know.”

Widening your eyes, you stopped a few doors down so even Steve’s super hearing wouldn’t pick up your words. You asked, “Is he going to be mad?” Bucky laughed, “Probably that we didn’t tell him sooner, but I have a plan. Just follow my lead and look sad.” You held out your bandaged arm, and Bucky looked mortified, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so sorry.” He hugged you and you rubbed a hand up and down his back, “I know. It’s okay, Buck.” Stepping back, you smiled at him, eyes a little watery, and he steered you toward the door. “You go keep Steve company and I’ll be back later.”

~

When Bucky returned, you were sleeping on Steve’s chest with an arm wrapped around his stomach. He was reading _The Outsiders_ intently and tracing patterns between your shoulders absentmindedly. Bucky raised his phone to take a picture and Steve looked up and him and grinned just as the camera clicked. “Aww,” Bucky said, turning the phone to Steve, who nodded and asked Bucky to send it to him. “Everything okay here?” he asked, motioning to you. “Yep,” Steve said, leaning over to kiss your head, “We’re good.” “Okay,” Bucky said loudly and Steve shot him an angry look, “I’ve got a surprise for you, Stevie!” He was shouting by the time he said Stevie and you jerked awake.

“What the hell, Bucky?” you asked, a little peeved to be woken up so suddenly. He clucked his tongue at you, “Now, now, princess. I need you to be awake for the big reveal.” A flash of realization passed across your face and you sat up, bouncing a little on the bed. “All right you two, what’s going on?” Bucky handed Steve a hastily-wrapped gift and Steve opened it quickly, eyes widening when he pulled out the most offensively-colored Hawaiian dad shirt you’d ever seen. “Why do I need this?” he asked, clearly amused. “Well,” you asked, grinning at Bucky, “where might you wear that, Steve?” His eyebrows furrowed and he said, “On vacation?” You nodded and Bucky whooped, “Yep! We’re going to Hawaii in the morning!”

For a minute, Steve didn’t say anything and you glanced at Bucky nervously. Steve slipped the shirt over his head and asked, “When do we leave?” You squealed and Bucky simply said, “First thing in the morning, but you’re not wearing _that_. It was a joke.” Steve laughed and shook his head, “Oh no, I’m committed now. It’s happening.” Your phone beeped and you reached for it while they were arguing. “It’s Bruce,” you said and they stopped instantly, turning to you. “As he suspected,” you continued, “I am anemic but otherwise I’m good.” You breathed a sigh of relief and Bucky smacked a kiss on your cheek, “I actually bought you some iron pills while I was out buying that monstrosity, he said, gesturing at Steve.

You were about to speak when your phone went off again and your smile widened. “He also says that Steve is cleared early so he can sleep in a real bed tonight!” Both you and Bucky looked at Steve expectantly and his smile was gone, replaced with tears in his eyes. “Stevie,” Bucky said softly, sitting sideways on the bed by your feet, “What’s wrong? Does something hurt?” You pulled your knees up and rested them on the bedrail so Bucky could scoot closer. He caressed Steve’s jaw with his flesh hand, turning his face back toward the pair of you. “Baby,” Bucky whispered sweetly, “Talk to me. What is it?”

Steve wiped at his tears hastily, “I’m fine, nothing hurts, it’s just…” He took a shaky breath to compose himself and Bucky pushed Steve’s hair back from his forehead while he waited for an explanation. “I’m just really happy I didn’t die.” Bucky looked at you with wide, scared eyes and you asked, “We’re happy about that too, but why are you saying that now?” Steve sighed and blinked his tears away, “I didn’t mean this week, I meant back when I was skinny.” Bucky looked utterly lost, but you were putting the pieces together.

“Buck and I spent too much time in hospitals and with me being really sick back then and there were a few times I thought I was a goner. But this time, I knew that because of you guys and the team and the serum that I was going to be fine,” Steve said, voice growing surer as he talked. “I was thinking about that while you were asleep,” he reached out and tucked a hair behind your ear, “There’s just a lot of shit in all of our lives, you know?” You nodded but Bucky still looked thrown. “But we’re all here now. And we’re alive even if we all should’ve been dead at some points. And when one of us gets hurt or gets sick or has a bad day, the rest of us can swoop in and fix it or take them to someone who can. And it just makes me happy is all,” he clarified before Bucky cut him off with a kiss that looked like it was on this side of painful.

“Next time don’t lead with being happy you’re not _dead_ , damn it,” he grumbled, releasing a slightly stunned Steve, “about give me a heart attack, Rogers.” Steve looked slightly abashed, but he pulled Bucky back with one arm and you into his side with the other. “I meant it though. I love you guys and I’m glad we’re here together.” You allowed yourself to be sappy and accept his affection since Bucky was being hostile enough for both of you, griping, “Manhandling us into loving you back won’t work, you idiot.” You hummed and wrapped your arm back around Steve’s middle, “Speak for yourself, Bucky Bear, it’s working on me.”

Bucky dropped his forehead onto Steve’s shoulder and groaned, “Is this what I have to deal with for the next 10 days? You guys are going to hug me into my grave.” You released Steve and he winked down at you before releasing Bucky and pushing him to the foot of the bed. He climbed over you and stood, throwing belongings into the backpack, and you sat up next to Bucky. “What’re you doing now?” he asked, exasperated. You passed your phone to Bucky, letting him peruse the lengthy group message you’d been a part of for the past hour with Tony, Nat, Sam, Clint, and Bruce. “Our presence has been requested at a team dinner before we go on vacation,” you explained, dragging Bucky with you toward the door.

He resisted, but not much since you were still able to pull him along. “C’mon little raincloud,” you half-sang, yanking him into the elevator. His glare had no effect on you or Steve, who pushed the button with a flourish for Tony’s floor and up you went, thrilled to have everyone in the same building for one night.

~

At 2:30 am, you jolted up in bed and turned on your lamp. You looked around and realized it’d been just a very upsetting dream. Throwing the covers off, you went into the kitchen and got some water before plopping yourself down on the couch, not quite ready to go back to sleep yet. You knew it was just a dream, but it still made you a little teary. You asked Jarvis to put a feed of Steve and Bucky's room on the Stark pad you had on the couch. They were snuggled up together under the covers, Bucky's chest pressed against Steve's back, and they looked so peaceful. You knew you were being silly, that you could go in there if you wanted to, But your mind wouldn't shut up about the stupid dream. So you closed out the feed and just let yourself cry. It wasn't an outburst; just quiet tears rolling down your face and an occasional sniffle. You didn't hear the quiet creak of the door opening and footsteps in the hall.  
  
Bucky was rubbing his eyes and yawning on his way to the kitchen for something to drink, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw that you were sitting on the couch in relative darkness, crying silently. Hoping you weren't in pain or anything major was wrong, he slid onto the couch next to you.  
  
"Hey," he said, touching your arm gently, "what's the matter, sweetheart?" You turned to him and looked at him with such a miserable expression that he almost cried with you. He ventured a guess, "Does something hurt?" You shook your head. He snapped his fingers and asked, "Nightmare?" You didn't shake your head, but your lower lip quivered so he knew he was on the right track. "It's all right, darlin'," he said, tucking your hair back behind your ears, "Was it about your dad?" You shook your head again and he asked more tentatively, "Was it about me and Steve?" This time, you nodded and more tears slipped down your cheeks.  
  
"Hey, hey," Bucky said warmly, "it's okay. We're back and we're okay." He put an arm around your shoulders and you finally blurted out, "It wasn't about either of you getting hurt. It's stupid, I know, but you guys were really mad at me about something but you wouldn't tell me what it was and it was awful.” Bucky looked a little stunned, but let you continue, "You refused to talk to me _at all_ and Steve," you gulped, "Steve yelled at me _a lot_ and then I decided to move out. But I w-woke up before I actually did it. I know it's dumb. I didn't mean for you to wake up too."  
  
"Oh baby girl," he said, squeezing you a little, "I'm so sorry. We'd never do that to you. You know that, right?" You nodded and he took a deep breath while you calmed down. He took your head in both his hands, leaning down to kiss your forehead, and suggested, "C'mon. Let's go lay in our bed and I'll hold you for awhile. That sound okay?" You agreed and let him pull you up to your feet.  
   
Steve was still fast asleep, but he was now on his back. You crawled in next to him and Bucky flopped down beside you and let you burrow into his chest. As he promised, Bucky held you tight and whispered, "I've got you," and you closed your eyes, feeling safer and more comfortable than you had in weeks. A warm, heavy arm fell across you and a hand tapped your side and then Bucky's. "Oh good," a sleepy voice drawled, "I thought it was morning." Steve fitted himself along your back and nuzzled his face in the back of your neck.  
  
"No worries, sunshine," Bucky whispered in mock sweetness, "Still time for your beauty rest.” Steve snorted and you mumbled sleepily, snuggling in closer to both of them, "I missed you guys." Two sets of arms clutched you and they both said at the same time, “We missed you too.” You fell asleep to the sounds of a whispered argument blanketing you in warmth and familiarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's Russian phrases:
> 
> Будьте спокойны, принцесса- Be calm, princess. 
> 
> Ты в порядке. Я прямо здесь- You're okay. I'm right here.
> 
> There won't be a new chapter this week (Happy Thanksgiving!) so there won't be anything else up until the first week of December. :)


	10. Hawaii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our reader and the super soldiers go on vacation and, as always, feelings and secrets are revealed.

You weren't really sure why you could text at 20,000 feet (thank you Stark tech), but it kept you entertained while Steve and Bucky slept on the plane. They were adorable, really. Which was why you'd taken a picture of the scene: Bucky sitting sideways on Steve's lap, long legs flung out to the side and Steve leaned back in his seat, snoring with his big arms crushing Bucky into his chest. 

The picture you kept to show them later, but you didn't see much harm in recording thirty seconds of Steve sawing logs and sending it to Clint asking him to identify the snorer. He correctly guessed Steve and two hours later, you were still messaging him. The relative silence of the flight was a nice change of pace. And the opportunity to talk to Clint without prying eyes was an unprecedented treat. You hadn't had much time until now to think about him and you or if that could ever be a thing. 

You decided to try a small experiment and texted him, 

_I know I already said something, but thank you for, you know, being there for me this week. I don't know what I would've done without you. (Don't tell Sam, but you're my favorite bird)_

You sent a row of purple heart and little bird emojis as well and waited. 

Seconds later, the reply came,

_Listen. I'd do anything for you. You know that! And I don't want to see Sam's pouty face, so I'll keep your secret...for now._

He sent a few heart eyes emojis and some laughing ones as well. _Well,_ you thought, _that clears up nothing._ You made a note in your phone to call Nat sometime this week and left the conversation as it was. 

~

When the plane landed, a car picked the three of you up and the driver informed you it was a two-hour drive to Stark's seaside mansion. Steve had a window rolled down and was practically hanging out of it, gaping at the picturesque landscape, but Bucky sidled up to you and asked, "You tired, darlin'? You didn't sleep on the plane." You shook your head, but nestled into his side when he offered. 

"Everything okay?" he whispered, running his knuckles lightly over your cheek. You nodded, but he was unconvinced, "Watcha thinking about?" Sighing, you asked, "Is it okay if I don't want to talk about it?" He rested his cheek on top of your head and responded, "Of course. But you'll talk to me when you're ready?" "Yeah, I will," you promised, letting your eyes drift shut. “You know,” Bucky said thoughtfully, rubbing your arm, “Even though you’re definitely _not_ tired, you could always just close those pretty eyes for a few minutes.” He could’ve said more, but you were already sleeping.

~

Four days passed by in a blur of sun, sand, and copious amounts of food. After the first two nights of cuddling in the biggest bed, you were dying to try a hammock-style suspended bed down the hall that those two definitely couldn’t fit on. You found in your suitcase a gorgeous pair of noise-cancelling headphones with a note from Tony that read, _I care about you and your ears. <3,_ and, armed with your gift, convinced them that you’d be _fine_ sleeping alone for once.  The hammock bed rocked if you swayed in it a bit and you fell asleep listening to soft piano music without worry of hearing what you suspected was happening a few doors down. If their sappy, love struck looks the next morning were anything to go on, you made a good call.

You were able to spend two nights alone before Bucky screamed through a terrible nightmare that had him dissolving into loud, gut-wrenching sobs on the fifth night. With a glass of water in hand, you crept in their room and Steve sagged with relief. Bucky was lying face down in the pillows, trembling and crying, and shoving Steve’s hand away when he tried to help. You plunked the glass down next to Bucky so he’d hear you and his head jerked, taking in your face with gradual recognition.

Steve was tense while he watched Bucky stare you down, praying that he’d accept someone’s help, anyone’s help. Cautiously, you reached your hand out to push his hair away from his eyes and he didn’t flinch. “Are you real?” he croaked, voice strained from bawling. You nodded, taking his flesh hand and bringing it up to your face. “Do I feel real?” you asked. He hesitantly squeezed your cheek with his fingers, “Yeah.” You could feel tears pricking your eyes and you said, “I’m real. I’m here. And so are you. And so is Steve. We’re on vacation in Hawaii. Just the three of us. Do you remember?” Bucky nodded and you coaxed him to sit up and drink some of the water while Steve wet a warm washcloth and cleaned his face gently.

Bucky relaxed under your combined efforts and you asked, “Do you want a hug?” He bobbed his head and asked nervously, “Can you both…at the same time?” Steve smiled a little when he said, “Sure, Buck. Anything you want,” and sat down on Bucky’s left side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. You took your spot on Bucky’s right side and wound your arms around his torso and held on tightly, listening to his ragged breathing start to slow.

Steve was whispering low and soothing, carding his free hand through Bucky’s hair, “It’s okay. You’re all right.” After a few minutes, his heart rate slowed and Bucky slumped against Steve’s side and Steve suggested he lay back down. Bucky agreed and let Steve move him back onto the bed, but he grabbed onto your hand and pleaded with big, earnest eyes, “Don’t go.” So you scooted up the bed and laid facing Bucky and promised, “I’m not going anywhere.” Steve leaned over and kissed your head before spooning himself snugly around Bucky, who hung onto Steve’s arm like it might vanish. It only took a few precious seconds for Steve to fall silent, but Bucky was wide-awake, looking at you, and you could tell all the fear from whatever was plaguing him wasn’t gone yet.

You weren’t really that tired, so you talked and Bucky listened silently. You told him about what you’d been working on, the book you were reading, and you’d paused, out of ideas when he asked unexpectedly, “Do you remember your mom?” Before you could answer, he admitted quietly, “I almost remember mine. But it’s fuzzy. Even what Steve tells me doesn’t always seem right. But do you remember yours?” Figuring there was no better time than now, you dropped your voice to a whisper, “I don’t remember as much as I want to, but the good stuff is still there if you want to hear about it.” Bucky nodded, waiting for you to speak.

“Well,” you said, trying to collect your thoughts, “When I was a little girl, like before kindergarten little, she took care of me most of the time. My dad, for what it’s worth, really did seem to care about her. She and I would go to the park when it was warm and every Friday she’d make me pancakes with smiley faces in them because she worked Friday and Saturday nights, but I don’t think I ever knew what she did. I guess the pancakes were an apology for her being gone at bedtime those nights.”

You sighed and you knew a cloud passed across your face because Bucky released Steve’s arm to cup your cheek, stroking your jaw softly. “When I started going to kindergarten, she got sick. I know that because it was the same time my dad took away my teddy bear. I told her about it, but she didn’t get mad like she normally did when my dad was mean to me, she just stared out the window and said she was sorry. The sicker she got, the nastier dad was to me. It was like,” you blinked furiously, “like he was taking out his anger on me. Like it was somehow my fault. He told me it was on multiple occasions.”

You sniffed, “And my mom, she was always so pretty and put-together. Even when she was sick, she wore matching pajamas and makeup.” Tears were gathering on your lashes, but you pressed on, “The last time I saw her, she was propped up in her bed and so skinny I could see the bones in her wrist. My dad had to go out and get the doctor because mom was going fast, so I snuck into her room and climbed up on her bed. She turned her head and looked at me for the first time in months and I remember exactly what she said,” you struggled against the impending waterworks to finish.

Bucky rubbed his metal fingers along the back of your neck. “She said that she loved me and that no matter what my dad or anyone else did to me, that I was strong and capable and to not let anyone make me feel less than that. And that’s it. I don’t think I ever saw her again after that.” You reached up to wipe at your eyes and Bucky pulled you closer to him and whispered, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You managed a small chuckle, “It’s not your fault, Buck. I’m supposed to be talking about my life anyway.” He hugged you tighter and asked, “Therapy?” You nodded and he laughed quietly. You felt yourself getting sleepy until Steve reached over, squeezing your arm, and asked, “How was the hanging bed?” Bucky snorted loudly in your ear and you replied, “Honestly, it was super comfortable. Like sleeping in a giant rocking chair.” Steve hummed and Bucky said sadly, “I wish there was a bigger one. No way our giant selves could fit in it.”

You pulled back enough to see their faces and said, “Have you guys not been on the second level patio?” Their eyes widened in confusion and you clarified, “There’s a giant round one up there. It looks like a cloud. I spent all day up there while you guys were surfing!” Steve and Bucky looked at each other knowingly and leapt up with grace they should not possess at 3:00am and you groaned, “Really, guys?” Bucky was already leaving and Steve scooped you up off the bed like you weighed nothing, so you just hung on and prayed they’d let you actually get some sleep.

They were so excited about the swinging couch/bed that it’d be adorable if you weren’t so grumpy. You didn’t mind at all getting up and helping Bucky out, but you had only been asleep for a couple of hours when he woke up. And thinking about your mom and crying made you even more exhausted and irritable. Steve dumped you in the middle of it and Bucky crawled in behind you, wrapping himself around you and whispering, “I really didn’t mean to make you upset.” Steve was suddenly in front of you wearing his concerned Bambi eyes, “Are you mad?” You sighed and reached behind you to pat Bucky, “I’m not mad. But talking about stuff…gets me in a bad mood sometimes. But I’ll get over it.”

You figured there was a silent conversation going on until Steve looked down at you and said, “Well you don’t have to get over it by yourself.” You frowned. He shuffled until he was lying beside you and watched you, seeming to analyze something in your face. He looked for so long that you had to ask, “What are you staring at?” hoping it didn’t sound too testy. Bucky hadn’t loosened his grip and that was helping you relax and you berated yourself for being so weak and needy. Steve didn’t answer your question, but he asked you, “You know it’s okay to want sympathy, right? I think we’ve made it pretty clear, but you’re definitely beating yourself up right now.” Your mouth fell open in surprise, “H-how did you know that?” He smiled softly at you, “Because you only make that pinched face when you’re mad at yourself.” Bucky chimed in, “And you only stay mad at yourself. With anyone else, you’re quick to forgive.”

A small part of you was peeved that they knew you so well, but a bigger part of you was relieved. Steve palmed the side of your head with his big hand and said, “It’s okay to be sad about your mom. She sounded amazing.” You didn’t say anything but you weren’t frowning quite so adamantly. “I know it sounds jargon-y but it’s perfectly alright to need people, to want reassurance. So what I’m saying is that it’s okay. And you’re okay.” Bucky cut in, “But you better start treating yourself better because I’m not gonna tolerate _anyone_ talking or thinking shit about you.” You laughed softly, but it was genuine. Steve pushed his fingers into your hair and rubbed at your scalp.

“Now that’s not fair,” you grumbled sleepily, unable to resist how kind and comforting they were being. “What’s not fair?” he asked, amused and not attempting to hide it. “How am I supposed to be ornery if you guys are being so _nice_ to me?” Behind you, Bucky laughed loudly and peered over your shoulder at Steve, who was wearing his _I know I’m right_ face, “You can’t.” You couldn’t even argue with that when he was so warm and solid and seemed to be as far from his earlier nightmare as possible.

Giggling, you knocked your head into Steve’s hand until it started moving in your hair again and let your eyes close. He and Bucky were on another subject now and you didn’t care to listen, but you didn’t sleep at forst. You just lay there, relaxed and safe, rocking slightly in the warm Hawaiian breeze until you felt Bucky nuzzle his head between your shoulder blades and mumble, “G’night.”

~

The boys desperately wanted to hike a big volcano on day 7 and tried to convince you to go, but you were having none of it. Hiking wasn’t really your thing anyway, but you had ulterior motives today. Bucky looked at you like he knew you were full of it, but he didn’t call you on it. They were finally out of the house and the car was out of sight before you called Natasha, who answered on the second ring.

“Either someone’s injured or you have a big secret,” she said by way of greeting. You rolled your eyes, “Good to talk to you, too.” She chuckled and said, “You sound fine, so what’s up, buttercup?” You sighed and decided to just be relatively straightforward, “I’m interested in someone, but I’m 100% not sure what to do about it or if I even should do anything about it.” Natasha didn’t say anything for a second and then, “It’s someone I know, isn’t it?” You didn’t answer, which she took as a yes, and she asked, “Well that narrows it down quite a bit. You gonna tell me or make me guess?” You countered, “Ask Jarvis to show you the footage from Tuesday night around midnight.”   

You heard her ask Jarvis and then nothing, so you assumed she was watching the footage. Natasha picked the phone back up and you could hear the grin in her voice when she said, “Well, well. Not at all surprising, I’m afraid.” You practically spit out the water you’d been drinking, “What? How are you not even a little surprised?” She laughed manically, “I know everything. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

You exhaled and pinched the bridge of your nose, “Well then tell me what to do.” She clucked her tongue and said coolly, “Oh I told Clint he should ask you out _ages_ ago.” Sitting down on the sofa with no grace whatsoever, you gasped, “Why didn’t he?” Natasha asked you to hold on and shouted something in Russian that ended with Stark. “Because Clint’s a good guy. He was worried about you and I think he made the right call.”

For several minutes, you chewed on a pen and didn’t answer. This didn’t bother Natasha in the least and she didn’t make a sound until you picked the phone back up, “Is he still interested?” Her voice sounded warmer than her normal icy tone when she said, “He came up to your floor and stayed with you so you wouldn’t be afraid. He hugged you in the hallway after Bucky lost his shit on you. You beat him at a video game and he didn’t threaten you like he does everyone else. I’m pretty sure he still thinks you are ‘the cutest person on the planet’, end quote.” You inhaled sharply and blushed, _hard_ , while Natasha kept on, “And I’d love to stop being on the hearing end of Clint’s pining. It’s annoying and I’ve dealt with it for many, many months.” She sounded like she was getting a headache with the thought.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you asked and she answered very seriously, “There was no need to put pressure on you. You had a lot to deal with and you didn’t need it before. But you’re doing a lot better now, not perfect, but who is? And he’s definitely been moping since you’ve been gone. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thanks, Nat,” you said, a little breathless. She laughed again, obviously tickled, and hung up. You were glad Steve and Bucky would be gone for a few more hours so you could have time to process what Natasha told you like it was no big deal. Like it was just something that she and Clint talked about. And _oh god_ , she was going to tell Bucky. You weren’t sure how you knew, but you were 100% certain it would happen.

~

The next morning you were just trying to get coffee when Bucky materialized out of thin air and snatched the cup out of your hand. That left you with no choice but to follow because, well, he had your caffeine. He went outside on the back deck and you trailed behind him, sliding the glass door shut behind you. The coffee was thrust suddenly back into your hands and Bucky sat down on a wicker pool chair, staring at you blankly. You sat down next to him and took a few sips of your coffee before you asked, “How’d you get up without Steve noticing?”

Without changing expression, he answered, “I’m a world-renowned spy and assassin. I can get out of bed without waking up Captain America.” After a few more sips and a fleeting thought about what a great tweet that would make (you could even do a hashtag #lifewithsupersoldiers), you were feeling bolder, “So why are we out here?” Bucky planted both bare feet on the ground and leaned forward, “What does Natasha know about you that I don’t? She said you’d tell me soon, but she obviously knows something.” His expression was blatantly agitated now and you immediately felt guilty, “It’s not like that, Buck. I just needed her opinion on something.”

Bucky still looked unsettled, so you figured you might as well tell him what was going on, at least somewhat. “I didn’t tell you because it might not even be a thing, but,” he perked up at the conjunction, “gosh this sounds so teenager-y, but there’s someone I may have potentially romantic feelings for and Natasha’s going to feel it out for me and tell me if it’s worth a shot before I make a fool of myself.” Bucky looked shocked, a look you were not used to seeing on his face.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat and asked, “Who is it? Not hipster guy from the art store, I hope.” You laughed a little nervously, “No, no not him. But I don’t want to say anything until I have a chance to talk to him first.” Bucky looked wounded again, so you said, “It’s not that I don’t want you guys to know. I do, but I don’t want to jump into something and get my heart broken. I can’t do that again, Bucky.” You hated how your voice wavered on the last sentence, but it softened Bucky’s expression immediately.

“Aww, sweetie. I’m sorry.” Your smile was a little shaky, but you assured him, “I’m fine, really. And Natasha assures me that this man has been pining after me for awhile, so I’m pretty confident you’ll get to know soon.” He took your coffee from you and yanked you up to hug you, saying, “Good. I want to know who to threaten if they even _think_ about hurting my baby girl.” Most people would probably protest such a statement, but you were kind of overwhelmed by the care behind it. No one had ever been around who wanted to protect you.

Steve appeared suddenly and nearly tackled both of you, mumbling sleepily, “Are we group hugging? I love it.” You laughed and Bucky said, “We’re confessing secrets actually.” Steve pulled back, more awake, “Secrets?!” You got Steve to sit and told him what was going on before he arrived. His jaw took on a firm set and he promised gravely, “I’ll set whoever this is straight. He’ll treat my girl right while I’m around.” Smiling, you pecked his cheek and sat down on his lap, “I would love that.” He and Bucky both laughed and Bucky asked, “You would?” “Yeah,” you admitted a little hesitantly, “I've never had anyone who cared. I’m certainly not against it.” Another group hug happened and Bucky grumbled that it was too early, but he made no move to break out.

~

You were packing up to leave in the morning for New York when your phone rang and you saw Clint’s face on the screen. Taking a deep breath, you answered, “Hello?” Clint said, “Hey,” and nothing else for a few seconds. “So Nat told me that you guys talked,” he said hesitantly. “We did,” you responded, finding it difficult to speak with all the butterflies in your stomach. “Do you, ummm,” he scrambled for words, “I think you’re beautiful,” he stammered, and suddenly his voice sounded far, like he’d put the phone down in anger or embarrassment.

“Clint?” you tried after a minute of trying to breath through your jumbled thoughts. He picked back up, “Sorry I had a whole speech planned about how great you are and how you’re so strong and funny and I want to spend all my time with you, but it didn’t come out right.”

“I think it came out exactly right, “ you said, smiling like an idiot. “Yeah?” he asked, sounding like was relieved. “Absolutely. I like you a lot, Clint. I know that sounds high school, but it’s true.”

“Good,” he breathed, then laughed, “I mean I like you too. And I don’t want to rush you into anything. I want to take it slow if that’s okay with you? Whatever you want is fine, but,” he started rambling and you cut him off. “Slow is good, Clint. I’m all kinds of screwed up, so that’s probably the only way.” He muttered, “You’re not.” You got a text from Nat and you excused yourself to read it. “Hey,” you said, waiting for Clint to let you know he was listening before he continued, “There’s a big party in Steve’s honor in L.A. next weekend for when he saved that school. Bucky will go, obviously, but it’s very exclusive so I’ll just stay at the Tower. We could get pizza?” Clint replied immediately, “Yes, yes! It’s a date,” he paused before asking, “It is a date, right?”

“Yep. It’s a date. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I can hear the old men down the hall and I am not ready for them to be in the middle of this yet.” Clint snorted, “Good call. See you soon.” You hung up and flopped backwards onto the bed.

You had a date. With a superhero. And he thought you were beautiful.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously my thoughts about ending after chapter 10 are WAY out the window. :) I'm thinking my next few chapters will be holiday-themed since I'm entrenched in Christmas spirit at the moment.
> 
> Here's my inspiration for the hanging beds in case you were curious!  
> Single bed  
> http://www.decoist.com/2013-03-06/hanging-bed-design-ideas/an-exuberant-way-to-liven-up-your-living-room/  
> Big outdoor bed  
> http://www.decoist.com/2013-03-06/hanging-bed-design-ideas/awesome-round-hanging-bed-design-for-a-vacation-like-feel/


	11. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and the reader have their first official hang out/date. Adorableness abounds.

You sure you'll be all right?" Bucky asked seriously, holding you by your shoulders and staring at you intently. You considered brushing him off, but, figuring he'd see through it, you went with, "I'm not sure. But I think I'll be okay. And if not, I've got Bruce, Nat, Clint, and Sam." 

Bucky looked down at you with a pained expression. He was leaving in the morning to fly out to California to meet up with Steve for a huge party in his honor for saving a college from slime monsters and Steve was already there since they opened a new campus and named the history building after him. The party was Friday night and they were planning on coming home on Sunday. 

Two nights wouldn't normally even phase you, but it was the weekend before Thanksgiving, thus the anniversary of your mom's death. It'd been 18 years but it still hit you like a ton of bricks and you normally called in sick and lay in bed all day. Sometimes you were sad, but you mostly felt like you missed out on the basic human experience of having a mom and that made you cry for hours last year. Even your shitty boyfriend had left you alone all day. 

It'd been right after New Years when Steve and Bucky took you in, so they had no idea what to expect and then felt awful that they'd be gone when the day rolled around.  You smiled tightly at him and said, "You go be with Steve. You know he hates all this attention and tomorrow night will be way worse. He needs you, Bucky." 

"But you might need me too," he countered softly, loosening his grip a bit. "I know you're not gonna like hearing this," you said, "but I've dealt with it alone my whole life. One weekend isn't going to ruin me." He enveloped you in the hug you'd seen coming a mile away and said sadly, "But I don't want you to do it by yourself." You squeezed him and felt like you were the one comforting when you replied, "I know. And I love that you think that way, but it's really okay. Captain America needs you, soldier. You got no choice." 

Bucky snorted and released you, shaking his head. "Promise you'll answer when we call on Saturday?" You stuck out your smallest finger, "Pinky promise." He made you pinky promise with both hands before letting you go and grabbing his bags and setting them by the door. "At least let me cuddle you tonight?" He asked, lower lip sticking out dramatically. You pretended to think for a minute and finally agreed, "If that's what you want." 

~ 

When you turned up in the master bedroom later that night, you paused outside the door and listened to Bucky saying, "I'll be there tomorrow, I promise." Steve must've been on speakerphone or face time because you could hear him say, "Okay. I thought I could handle all this, but I just can't do it, Buck." He sounded like he was close to tears. "Shh, Stevie, don't cry now, baby. It's all right. Just get some sleep and I'll be there before you know it." 

You knocked quietly and poked your head in. Bucky waved you over and you saw Steve's sad face looking longingly at Bucky. "You okay, Steve?" you asked, feeling like you were invading a private moment. Somehow he looked even more miserable when he looked at you. He blinked a few times and you kind of wanted to cry with him when he said, "And no one's going to be there for you on Saturday." He put his face in his hands and whispered, "I'm sorry." 

 Immediately, you snatched the phone out of Bucky's hand and he watched you curiously. "Steve Rogers," you said in your sternest voice (which wasn't all the stern because you could NOT handle him crying), "Stop it right now." His head shot up and his red eyes almost got you, but you continued, "What do you always say to me? It's okay to need people?" He nodded, looking a little sheepish. "You clearly need Bucky. And that's okay. He  _wants_  to be there with you." Your voice wavered a little, "And I already told him," you jerked your thumb in Bucky's direction, "that I've dealt with this alone my whole life." 

Bucky's hand suddenly landed on your knee and you spared a second to smile at him. Steve was already starting to say something, so you cut him off unceremoniously, "Let me finish. I'm not alone this time." You put your hand over Bucky's and and squeezed it. "Bruce and Nat and Clint and Sam will all be here if I need them and I can still talk to you guys. I didn't even have anyone to call before and now I've got a whole superhero team who cares about me. I'm going to be fine." Bucky moved closer so you could both be in the picture and Steve chuckled, "Well okay, then. Send me my Bucky!"

You laughed and Bucky faked indignance, "I will come of my own free will, but you have to let me get some sleep first. I know it's only quarter to ten there, but it's almost 1:00 here, buddy." Steve agreed he should go and spent longer than you'd like telling Bucky he loved him, missed him, wanted him, etc. He finally turned to you and said, "I know you won't believe me, but you're the strongest person I know. I love you, sweetheart." It took a very deep breath to keep yourself from crying, but you managed to say, "I love you too," and hang up before mashing your face into Bucky's good shoulder. 

"Why," you gasped," does he do that?" Bucky stroked a hand over your hair and shrugged, "Beats me. But he's always been good at that 1-2 punch with the 'I love you' tacked on the end." He turned off the lamp but didn't move to lie down. So quietly you almost missed it he said, "I'm really, truly sorry neither of us will be here." For a long while, you didn't say anything. You turned your head to the side and looked up at him in the slivers of light coming through the windows. He looked sad,  _really_ sad, the kind you don't brush off with a platitude. 

"Bucky?" you asked, trying not to break the silence too much. He looked down at you and you said, "I'm not," you struggled to find the right words, "I want you to go be with Steve. But I wish you were both here this weekend. Does that make me selfish?" He licked his lips and said after a moment, "I don't think so. But it's good to know you actually want us here. That's better than pretending you're okay when you're not." He yawned, sliding down the bed, and you rolled over so he could spoon up behind you. 

(Bucky _loved_ to be the big spoon. He spooned Steve and spooned you; once when he was on a mission for awhile without Steve, he convinced Sam to let him spoon him too which Clint had wanted in on it as well and Sam complained about being cuddled too much for  _weeks_  afterward.) 

He held you closely and whispered, “G’night, gorgeous,” he whispered, leaning around to kiss your cheek. “Night, Buck,” you whispered back, listening as Bucky's breathing slowed and evened out. Sleep evaded you for most of the night. So you traced the grooves of the metal arm and tried to make your mind as blank as possible, dozing on and off until 5:30. Nearly 5 hours of staring at the wall was enough, so you carefully slid out from under Buck's arm and got into the shower. 

Under the warm steam, you felt yourself getting teary-eyed, which you attributed to lack of sleep. You stayed in there for a while, crying over nothing in particular, until Jarvis piped up, and said, “Agent Barton would like to know why you aren’t asleep What should I tell him?" 

"He can't see me right, Jarvis?" You asked, a little nervous. "No miss," Jarvis assured you, "But he did ask where you were, so I told him you were not asleep." You thought through your options and went with, "Tell him I couldn't sleep, but I'm fine. Nothing's wrong." Jarvis went silent until you stepped out of the shower and troweled off. "Agent Barton says he hopes you're telling the truth and he is very much looking forward to seeing you tonight around 7." You couldn't help smiling while you braided your wet hair and dressed in clean leggings and a long-sleeved shirt with a Stark Industries logo on the sleeve since those seemed to be  _everywhere_  in the tower. 

"Jarvis? Tell Clint I'm looking forward to seeing if our taste in movies is compatible." 

~

The next evening, you'd gotten confirmation that Bucky made it safely and we're trying in earnest to decide what to wear. Clint was definitely a casual guy and this was a very casual date, but last time you were sitting on a couch with him, you were hysterically crying and a  _mess_.

You couldn't really go wrong with leggings; not only were they comfy, but the right ones looked good too. There was a new pair with a sequin stripe down the side that seemed date-worthy but you were completely stuck for a shirt. As if by magic, the elevator opened and you peeked your head out to see Natasha, holding a black shopping bag. 

"Pepper sent me with this," she said by way of greeting, "she thinks it'll look good on you." You balked, "How did she know? Does she know?" Natasha shook her head, "She only knows you have a date. Not with who or that you're not actually leaving the tower. I told her it was a casual movie thing." 

The shirt you pulled out was long and flowy, a gorgeous deep purple with little braided tassels hanging down the front. When you slipped it on, it hung perfectly. You turned in a circle and Natasha smiled slightly, "You look good. Now let me help your hair a little." You nearly squealed, "Would you? I'm not sure what to do with it now that it's growing back out." 

An hour later, you hair was straighter and pulled half up and you were slipping your feet into black flats. Natasha gave you a last once over and took your picture, swearing she'd only show it to Pepper. 

The elevator doors opened and Clint jumped up off the couch, walking over to meet you. "Whoa you look great," he said excitedly, smiling a big, goofy grin. You smiled back and chuckled when he turned to the side and you saw the tiny captain America shield on his sleeve. "Is this like casual cap attire?" You asked, and he shrugged but was clearly pleased with himself. 

You are dinner sitting at the kitchen counter (Clint didn't really need a table normally) and he leaned against it, talking animatedly more than eating. He seemed unable to stop his words and if it gave you a chance to stare at his ridiculous eyes and barely there freckles, who were you to complain? Eventually he stopped explaining to you the merits of a traditional bow and said, “I’m sorry. I talk a lot when I’m nervous.” You laughed and reassured him, “It’s okay. I don’t mind listening.”

He smiled and walked around the counter to stand next to you, scrolling through movies on his phone. “So I was thinking _Men in Black_. What do you think?” He bit his lip and looked hopefully in your direction. “Sounds great,” you said, smiling way too much because you could probably watch grass grow if that’s what he wanted.

The movie had been on for a little while and you were half paying attention to it, half trying to decide when would be best to close the distance between the two of you. After a few more minutes of deliberation, he laughed at something onscreen and turned to look at you, still snickering. You smiled softly at him and he stretched his arm across the back of the couch and arched his eyebrows at you. Relieved for the invitation, you slid over and he yawned and slowly put an arm around your shoulders and you couldn’t resist teasing him, “Oh that old classic, huh?”

He leaned close and stage whispered, “It worked, didn’t it?” You laughed and let yourself relax into his warmth. When he started rubbing little circles into your arm, a few clockwise, and then a few counterclockwise, you allowed your head fall back and sighed. The movie ended, but neither of you were in a rush to get up. Clint started another movie and produced sour gummy worms seemingly out of thin air.

You sat back enough to face him and said with a smirk you just could not hide, "Can I ask you a question?" He looked dubious, but he nodded. "Natasha said she was tired of hearing you talk about me. So how long have you been talking about me?" 

He munched thoughtfully for a second, then took a drink and said, "A long time. The past 6 months or so, I guess.” No matter how hard you fought it, you could feel your eyes bugging out slightly. Clint laughed before his expression turned soft with a fondness that almost made you blush. "Don't you dare say that I should've told you earlier," he wags a finger at you in mock sternness, "because you seemed like you needed time. Plus, your super dads, or whatever they call themselves, are kind of intimidating." 

You cackled and countered, "Trust me, they're not _that_ scary." Clint shook his head while brushing the sour dust off of his shirt, "You didn't see the way Barnes  _glared_ at that  barista at Starbucks who tried to flirt with you the other day." Leaning forward, you stole a few worms and asked, "Did he really?"

"Oh yeah, he took off his jacket and flexed the metal arm when you went to the bathroom." You rolled your eyes and chuckled, "I'm not surprised. He thinks he's subtle, but I told him that the cashier at the supermarket was bothering me and the next time I went in the same guy would  _not_  look at me. He moved registers when I came up, too." 

Clint sat his candy down on the coffee table and narrowed his eyes at you, "Which cashier? What did he say?" You sighed, "Not you, too!" His expression didn't change so you told him, "He's an older dude, maybe in his fifties? He works at the store around the corner from our apartment in Brooklyn. The first time he whistled at me when I walked in and then again when I left." Clint's eyes got darker, "The  _first_ time?" If he didn't look so serious, you'd grin at how cute he was, being all concerned.

"The second time he said he liked watching me walk around the store and I just kinda laughed it off. The third and final time, he greeted me when I went into the store and he was somehow always nearby. It threw me off so much that I didn't get anything and I started to walk out when he blocked my way and told me I should stick around with my," you did air quotes, "’sweet little ass’ because he was getting off in fifteen minutes and then we could go back to his place and see what happened so I high tailed it out of there and went home where I told Bucky and he promised to take care of it." 

Clint’s grip on his armrest was growing stronger by the second as he visibly tried to restrain his anger. You tried to placate him, “I’m fine, Clint. Nothing actually happened.” He took a breath to try to steady himself and eventually managed, “I swear to god, I’m just gonna have Stark create an Avengers alarm bracelet for you to wear.” Trying to lighten the mood, you asked with a small smile, “Like life alert?” He snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “Exactly! Like your own personal panic alarm!”

You patted his arm, “It’s so sweet of you to be so worried, but I’m okay.” Clint laughed incredulously and grabbed both of your hands, “What you just described to me is not okay. It’s never okay for someone to follow you around a store and say stuff like that to you or to anyone. But especially not you. If this relationship is gonna work, you can’t be going all Steve Rogers ‘I’m fine alone” on me.” A few seconds passed in silence while you wondered if he even realized what he just said and you could see the moment it hit him because he let your hands drop slowly and his eyes went wide.

“I mean if that’s um, something you want,” he stammered, blushing a little,” a relationship with me, that is. If you even like the idea.” You took his hands back and squeezed them, “I’d like that.” He grinned so big his cheeks had to hurt, “Yeah?” You nodded and he continued to sit, holding both of your hands and smiling dopily at you like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Only one thing, though,” you said and he promised earnestly, stroking your wrists with his thumbs, “Anything. What it it?” “We gotta tell Steve and Bucky soon or they’ll be mad at me or worse,” you shivered at the thought, “they’ll be sad.” Clint looked confused, so you added, “Clint, if you think they’re intimidating when they’re mad, just try to hold yourself together when Captain America turns his disappointed face on you.” Cringing, Clint agreed, “Okay. Can we at least wait until they get back here in person? And maybe you should do it alone.”

You decided he was right, “That’ll work. I’ll tell them not to harass you too much, but I really can’t keep tabs on Bucky. Steve will at least make an effort.” That didn’t seem to phase Clint, who leaned his head close to yours and questioned, suddenly serious, “So we’re really doing this, right? You’re really okay with this? With me?” The look of self-doubt on his face made your stomach drop to the floor. So you tilted your head in a moment of boldness and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before looking him dead in the eyes and saying sincerely, “Hell yes, we’re doing this. I’m in.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so incredibly sorry this took so long to finish!! But, as an apology, I'll be posting another chapter sometime this week, most likely Friday. If you're still reading this long piece of fluff, thank you. You are appreciated!


	12. So You Had a Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad day for the reader. But sadness brings cuddles, right?

The elevator doors opened and you rolled over to check the time. 8:00 am. You figured it was only a matter of time before Steve told everyone to check on you out of panic, so you texted both Steve and Bucky before pulling on a sweatshirt and emerging from your warm cocoon of blankets to find Sam in your kitchen, making coffee. 

In retrospect, you shouldn't have been surprised. Sam was your friend before you knew any of the other Avengers and last year you'd called in sick for your VA volunteer shift. Sam had seen right through you, so he was (for now) the only other person who knew about today. When you sat down at the table, Sam turned and said, "Thought I was gonna have to drag you out of bed to see the light of day." Normally, you'd quip back at him, but already your limbs were feeling heavy and you had the beginnings of a headache at the base of your skull. 

Spotting a brightly colored box on the counter, you asked hopefully, "Did you bring donuts?" Sam stared at you for a few seconds, debating on whether to change the subject. "Yeah," he said, finally breaking the silence, "I know they're not healthy, but sometimes all you want is some deep-fried sugar, right?" You nodded and selected a donut with more sprinkles on it than you imagined a donut could hold. 

Sam chuckled, "I  _knew_  you'd like that one." You smiled a little and took a few bites, letting the sprinkles dissolve in your mouth. He slid coffee across the counter to you and you ate the sprinkle-laden donut and a chocolate iced one while he ate the rest and talked about his schedule for the day. You were grateful that he didn't make you talk or act cagey and the entire conversation was so  _normal_. Even though it was a rough day, Sam made it feel regular. Suddenly, you felt bad for not spending more time with him and made a mental note to rectify that in the future. 

Eventually, he had to go for a series of meetings with Stark tech people about his wings and eventually make his way down to the VA for their thanksgiving outreach. After rinsing his mug and putting it in the dishwasher, Sam waved and walked toward the elevator, then, as if thinking better if it, he turned back around and came to stand in front of you. He looked like he wanted to touch you, but stopped himself, instead he told you,

"I'm so sorry." You nodded, not feeling enough energy to cry yet. 

"If you need me to come back, I can." You nodded again. 

"Call Steve and Barnes at least once."

"Okay."

"Drink lots of water."

"Okay."

"Eat something with some protein, please."

"I will." He swallowed thickly and patted your shoulder gingerly, 

"I want you to know, I'm real proud of you." A lump was rising in your throat suddenly and he continued, 

"You're a good person and you deserve to be happy or sad or whatever you want to feel. Just know that I'm on your side. Everyone here is and I'm sorry you had to live most of your life with no one supporting you. But you have it now, and it's not going anywhere, okay?" Tears were stinging the back of your eyes so you just put your hand over Sam's on your shoulder and squeaked out, "Thank you." He leaned forward and did his foreheads leaning together thing before finally getting on the elevator and waving as the doors shut. 

~

Around one that afternoon, you woke up with a start, chest heaving, heart beating wildly. A quick glance around the room revealed that you were in the very safe tower with your very super powered friends. It didn't stop you from crying, though. And you couldn't remember a thing about your dream, but you hadn't actually let loose and sobbed until now. So you wrapped your blankets closer around you, reached blindly for your Bucky Bear and soaked it's fur with your tears. 

You hadn't quite caught your breath when an overwhelming urge to talk to Steve swept over you. Maybe it was because you'd just seen Bucky yesterday. Maybe it was because he'd been gone for three days. So you called and when he picked up on the second ring and said, "Hey! I was hoping you'd call soon," you remembered. Steve was safety and consistency. You never, ever had to wonder if he would be there for you because he always was. (Not that Bucky wasn't, but it was different with each of them. Bucky would totally get what you were thinking.) 

You wanted to say what you were thinking, but all that came out was a pitiful, "I m-miss you." He sighed and said, "Oh sweetheart. I miss you, too. We'll be back early tomorrow, so less than 24 hours, I promise." A fresh wave of sorrow overtook and your hand holding the phone shook so badly you had to put him on speaker and sit it down on the bedside table. You knew he could hear your hitching breaths and hoped he wasn't crying as well. 

The need to see him, both of them, felt like it was ripping at you. "Steve?" you croaked out, voice raspy. "I'm here," he assured you. "Do you have your computer?" you asked, still fighting for breath. He did and you asked if he could Skype with you while they were still in the hotel. "You don't have to talk to me the whole time or anything, but I want to be able to see you and Bucky and hear you. Unless you have other plans or something." 

You could hear the rush in Steve's voice when he cut you off, "No, no, that's perfectly fine. I want to see you, too. We went to a breakfast thing with the faculty at the crack of dawn this morning, but now we're done. Might go to the beach this afternoon, but not for awhile. When Bucky gets back, we were planning on just hanging out her for a while. Maybe take a nap, maybe watch tv, but if you want to stay on Skype with us while we're here, you absolutely can." 

Relieved, you hung up and pulled out your laptop, setting it on your knees so you could get as close to the screen as possible. Almost as soon as you logged in, Steve was asking to video chat with you and, once his connection caught up, you could actually  _see_  his face. He smiled broadly as he said, " God, I haven't seen enough of you lately." You shook your head, laughing a little because you could see how terrible you looked in the little window in the corner of the screen.

He asked about what you'd been doing and you told him about Sam bringing you donuts and that was about all you had to offer. He was telling you about the boring party they'd gone to the night before when Bucky burst in and threw himself into Steve's lap. "Why didn't you tell me you were skyping? I would've come back faster!" Bucky cuffed Steve across the head and Steve just rolled his eyes. He turned to you and asked, "You doin' okay, darlin'?" You shook your head and he frowned, reaching his flesh hand out as if he could touch you through the screen. 

Eventually, Steve started yawning and you felt like you couldn't sit up much longer, so they moved their laptop to the bedside table and you did the same. Bucky propped himself up on pillows and flipped through the tv channels while Steve flopped over him, resting his head on Bucky's chest. He smiled in your direction and waved his fingers. You waved back and Steve wiggled until he got comfortable and closed his eyes. 

You lay still for a long while, listening to their breathing and distant sounds of whatever Bucky was watching on TV, turning your head occasionally to make sure they were still there. Once Bucky got bored with finding something to watch, he texted you for awhile, telling you what Steve wouldn’t. (Stuff like how glad he was that Bucky was there and how he’d almost physically restrained Steve from getting in touch with you three times before you actually called.) Eventually they had to go and you hung up, feeling a mixture of relief and sadness when you were encased in silent darkness again.

~

Since you promised Steve and Bucky that you'd take care of yourself, you rolled yourself out of bed at 4:00pm and took such a long shower that you were afraid you’d become one giant wrinkle. You were blow-drying your hair when you saw your phone light up and Clint's name appeared.

His text read:  _Don't panic, but I'm in your apartment_.

You texted back:  _Ok. Why?_

Clint _: Finish whatever you're doing and I'll explain when you get out here._

After you'd gotten dressed, you walked cautiously out into the living room. Clint was dressed in super soft looking sweats, but he had obviously attempted to fix his messy blonde hair. He must've had his hearing aid turned up as well, because he stopped unpacking takeout boxes when you stepped out of the hallway and turned around. Before you could really register what was going on, he was across the kitchen and his arms were around you. Your own arms hung limply at your sides while Clint murmured quietly, "Sam told me what's going on." 

_Just hug him back already_ , your brain screamed at you, _hurry before he stops and you’re alone again_. But your body apparently wasn’t in the mood to respond right away. Clint continued, undeterred, “Actually I bugged him when he said he’d seen you this morning until he told me what was up. I’m pretty sure he’s onto us, by the way.” He loosened his grip like he was about to pull away when your arms finally got the memo and wrapped around his back, clinging just on this side of too hard and letting your head fall against his shoulder. Clint let out a breath and hugged you closer, saying on the exhale, “There you are. Wasn’t sure if you were with me or not. I know I didn’t ask if this was okay but I figured this was a special circumstance and Jarvis said you hadn’t had anyone come by since Sam.”

“It’s okay as long as you don’t leave,” you managed to choke out, shaky voice muffled against his unbelievably soft shirt. He stroked a hand gently across your shoulders, “I’m not going anywhere.”After hanging on for a second and breathing deeply, you looked up and saw something that certainly wasn't there when you had breakfast. "What are those?" you asked and Clint released you to look where you were looking. 

Clint rolled his eyes, "Last time I ever let Tony order flowers for me." The arrangement on your counter was  _huge_ , overflowing with roses, carnations, lilies, and who knows what else. Even though it was definitely more ornate than you would've selected for yourself, a warmth spread through your chest at the sight. The card on the front read simply   _Love, Clint._ Reverently, you brushed your fingers across a particularly silky-looking rose, "You want to know something?" 

Next to you, Clint nodded and you admitted, "I've never gotten flowers before." You felt Clint squeeze your hand, "What's your favorite?" "Daisies," you answered while you regarded to bouquet on your counter, "not that this isn't impressive." He rolled his eyes again, "Stark's ridiculous. Apparently these are his big apology flowers, but I just, I don't know, wanted to send you something nice." 

"I like them," you said definitively, plucking the card out and slipping it into your pocket. If Clint noticed, he didn't say anything except, "Sweet and sour or General Tso's?"  You took the sweet and sour and he explained, "Sam said you promised to eat, but Jarvis ratted you out." Resigned, you ate on the couch, surprised to find how hungry you actually were as you wolfed down your entire take out box and an egg roll. Clint turned on  _Parks and Recreatio_ n most likely because you liked it, but he was watching you out of the corner of his eyes half the time. 

After he took away your trash and handed you a blanket, you asked, "Why are you being so nice to me?" It came out sharper than you intended, but Clint sat on the coffee table across from you and put both hands on your knees."Because you're having a really bad day. And you're all by yourself. And your super soldiers aren't here to take care of you. But you want to know what the main reason is? And it's not just the goodness of my heart." 

You nodded and he squeezed your leg,"Because I care about you and I hate to see you suffer alone when you don't have to. Remember what we decided last night?" You nodded again and felt like an awful bitch. 

"Being around you makes me happy, but I know it's not all pizza and movies on the couch. We both have a lot to deal with, but I want to help if you'll let me." 

If you felt bad before, you felt  _terrible_  now. You were almost always a patient person, yet here you were, nearly in tears because you were feeling too many things: exhausted, scared, lonely, and sadder than you'd been in months. And, to top it all off, you snapped at the person you'd been dating for less than one day. Desperately trying to swallow the lump in your throat, you whispered, "I'm sorry." You felt Clint sit down heavily beside you, "Im not mad. I just wanted you to know, you know, that I wanna be here for you." Clint was fiddling with a pen he must've found on the coffee table, flipping it between his fingers nervously. 

You poked him, "Thank you. I'm glad you're here." He leaned over and very lightly pressed his lips to your forehead and you felt the slightest twinge of happiness. Clint leaned back into the cushions, "Do you, umm, need anything now? Is there something I could...something you want me to do?" 

"Would you just sit here with me?" His eyes were so sincere and concerned that you could only look at them for a few seconds at a time, so you looked at his chin instead. (And, you noted to yourself, that was not a bad place to look. Damn superheroes and their jawlines.) His lips quirked up slightly and he said, "Absolutely," and turned the TV on, but lowered the volume.

It didn't even take one episode for your head to feel heavy  and your neck was screaming at you to relieve the pressure, lie down. And since Clint was not so subtly glancing at you every five seconds, you closed your eyes and allowed your head to fall back against the couch. The pounding in your temples made your eyes water and you desperately hoped you weren't getting a migraine. Clint was running his fingers gingerly over your forearm, and the sweetness of the gesture almost got to you. You could feel the darkness, the sadness, the abyss of grief creeping back up your spine, making your throat tight and your eyes release a few big, hot tears that you let roll down your face. 

Clint's fingers stopped moving and he asked, "Does your head hurt?" Though the headache was the least of your problems, you nodded and sniffled when a few more years escaped. He breathed out a soft, "Oh," before he jumped up off the couch, "Okay, hang on. Be right back." Without the willpower to speak, you sat while he dimmed the lights, grabbed some water and painkillers, and shut off the TV. "Open your eyes for me," he asked and you complied. He handed you the pills and the water, so you took them and drank a few sips of the water. When you were done, he took them from you and sat beside you, softly stroking your hair back from your forehead. 

 "C'mere," he said and you almost laughed because he didn't really give you a choice, already pulling you forward into his embrace. With warm, tender hands, Clint rubbed your back. No, it was too careful and light to even be considered that. It was a caress, an  _unbelievably_  gentle, soothing touch. Before you could stop yourself, you were full on sobbing, tears soaking Clint's shirt, and he was still moving a hand up and down your back, whispering, "That's it. Let go. It's gonna be okay." 

With your face safely hidden in Clint's shoulder, you did just that and bawled until there weren't any tears left to cry. You had some trouble catching your breath, but Clint talked you through it, encouraging you to breathe and promising you that he was here, that he was with you. Finally, you found the strength to let go (when had you latched onto him so tightly?) and sit back. He swiped at your damp face with his sleeve and lingered for a second, running his thumbs along your cheeks. 

"You okay?" he asked, still stroking your face, "Better," you admitted and he smiled at you so warmly that you felt yourself melting even more. When he handed you the half-full glass of water, you finished it and Clint took the empty cup from you, depositing it in the kitchen while you splashed water on your face in the bathroom. You weren't lying, you did feel better, but also wrung-out with the weird kind of relief that comes after a long cry. You dragged yourself back into the living room and Clint, past preambles at this point, reached out to you and arranged you on his lap. You let him, too tired to protest if you wanted to (you didn't) and grateful for the comfort.

With his arms around you loosely, grounding but not suffocating, he said, "If you're gonna be my girlfriend, you have to promise me something." If he asked you for the moon, the sun, the North Star, you'd give it to him if that's what he wanted. He went on, "You have to tell me when you're upset," he scratched his fingers along the back your neck, "or angry, or hurt, or you need me to sit with you, or you need space, or you just need a hug. Because I'm not very...observant. Especially since I'm not around you all day, every day, though I wouldn't mind that. But if you talk to me or call me or even send a text, I'll do whatever I can."

He trailed off and you picked up, "I will. That much I can handle. Because I  _really_  want to be your girlfriend." He turned enough to kiss your forehead again and you could hear the grin in his voice, "Glad to hear it. You got any requirements? Quid pro quos for your boyfriend?" For a minute, you couldn't really come up with anything, then you sat up enough to see his face and he met your gaze. "You can't yell at me." His eyebrows shot up and you clarified, "It's dumb, I know. But I can't deal with yelling again." He promised, "I won't _ever_ yell at you." You sighed, "Ummm, other than that, I have something to say, but it's not a quid pro quo or anything like that. It's kind of silly, but I want you to know." 

Clint interrupted, "I'm sure it's not silly or dumb. Whatever you want to say to me you can say, I want to hear it." If you had any energy left, you'd tear up, but you soldiered on, "I'm a pretty tactile person," Clint laughed, "I noticed! You know you're sitting on my lap, right?" You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help cracking a grin, too, "Alright, I'm getting to the point. What I'm trying to say is you've got my permission to touch me whenever you want. You don't have to ask. I trust you not to do something I don't want or to stop if I ask, so feel free." 

"You trust me?" He asked, sounding touched. "Yeah," you said, wrapping an arm around him, "I have to trust my boyfriend for this relationship to work out." Clint pushed you back enough to see your whole face and the look in his eyes, like he might cry, made you freeze and wonder if you said something wrong for a brief second before he said, "I  _really_  want to kiss you." 

You were stunned. How had you not noticed before how absolutely perfect his lips were? You forced yourself to look back up at his eyes and nod eagerly. So he cupped the back of your head and leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, but just barely. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest and you leaned into him, sliding your arms up his torso to pull yourself as close to his body as possible.Clint inhaled sharply and tilted his head to catch your lips again, still soft and sweet, but searching, more intentional. You genuinely could not remember the last time you'd been kissed, let alone treated like you were precious. 

He seemed intent on stealing all of the oxygen out of your lungs, and your heart flipped again when he sucked on your bottom lip and ran his free hand down your side, gently squeezing your hip. He pulled away slightly and, as if he'd suddenly changed his mind, he dove back in and kissed you again quickly before actually separating from you so you could both get in a full breath. 

After angling yourself so you could lay your head on his shoulder and still glimpse his face, you asked, "Remember a minute ago when I said you could touch me whenever?" Clint leaned his head against yours and you could feel him nod. "You can  _definitely_  do that anytime you want." He huffed out a laugh and rubbed his cheek against your hair, "You got it, baby." One little word like  _baby_  probably shouldn't make you break out in goosebumps, but the way Clint said it was different, like it was special.

His phone beeped loudly and he reached for it without jostling you too much. "It's from Bucky," he said and you could hear his phone click as he unlocked it and read, "When you get a chance, can you check on our girl? Me and Steve are real worried. Sorry I didn't text you in the earlier group message, buddy. My bad."

As if on cue, Tony and Bruce emerged from your elevator and Tony whistled. You jumped, but Clint didn't even react, like he wasn't surprised by them at all. "When Barnes said check on you, I didn't realize he meant _that_ thoroughly." Continuing to ignore Tony, Clint nuzzled the top of your head and hugged you to him, sighing contentedly. 

Bruce walked around Tony into the kitchen and set one of his teakettles on your stove to heat up before coming over and claiming the armchair for himself. "I brought you some tea," he said loud enough to silence Tony for a second. You smiled brightly at Bruce and said, "Tea sounds amazing." 

Deterred only momentarily, Tony started up again, "Not that I'm not happy for you, trust me I am, it was about time bird boy over here got some, but how are the granddads going to take this?" You glared at Tony and hissed, "If you say anything to them before I do." He held up his hands in surrender, "I won't! But I deserve the right to tease them once they do know, since you're all in  _my_  tower after all." His tone was haughty, but, when Clint was talking to Bruce, he winked at you. 

~

Eventually, Bruce and Tony left for the night, Tony singing about love and Bruce threatening to go green if he didn't stop while pushing him into the elevator. Clint asked, “Do you want to go to bed? I can go.” You shook your head and your lips trembled when you said, “No, umm, unless you want to go.” Clint extended his hand to you and pulled you back onto the couch, “Let’s watch a movie. Something funny and distracting.”

By the end of _Blades of Glory_ , which you had to admit was pretty hilarious, you were dozing with your head in Clint’s lap. He was running his fingers through your hair, combing it all away from your face. When the credits rolled, he suddenly pushed all of your hair the opposite way so it covered your face. You giggled and tossed your hair back, flipping onto your back to look up at Clint. He leaned down and peppered your face with kisses, whispering as he went,

“You" kiss to your forehead,

"are" kiss to your cheek,

"so" kiss to your nose,

"so," kiss to your other cheek,

"very," kiss to your chin,

"pretty.” kiss to your lips, a little longer than the rest.  

He asked if you wanted to go to your bed and you said no, the couch was fine. He gingerly lifted you from his lap, and stuck a throw pillow under your head before lowering you back to the couch. Clint tucked your blanket around you and squatted down in front of you, “Goodnight, girlfriend. See you tomorrow.” He turned off all the lights but one before leaving the floor and asking Jarvis to alert him if you woke up or had a dream.    

~

At 6:00am, Bucky and Steve tiptoed onto the floor and dropped their bags in the kitchen. Bucky walked toward the bathroom, but stopped and got Steve’s attention, gesturing toward the couch before slipping down the hallway silently. Curious, Steve peeked around the back of the couch and shook his head at your sleeping form. Miraculously, he lifted you off the couch without waking you up and carried you into their room and laid you on the bed still wrapped up in your blanket.

Kicking off his shoes, Steve crawled into bed behind you and Bucky crept in behind Steve. They were both heading to sleep when you mumbled sleepily, “Is it time to get up?” Bucky was shaking with muffled laughter and Steve shushed you, “No, no, sweetie.” You tried to speak again, but all that came out was, “I…sad…Clint…sleepy.” Steve bit back his own bout of laughter, “Shhh, shh. It’s all right. We’re here. Go back to sleep.”

You closed your eyes and your last thought before slipping out of consciousness was _Oh man. Have I got a story for them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a Christmas, New Years theme posted by New Years day! Hope you've all had a very merry Christmas. :)


	13. Holidays Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got super carried away with this (surprise!), so this is only the morning after the bad day and Thanksgiving. But I promise Christmas/New Year's is coming ASAP! For now, enjoy some more Clint fluff and supportive Steve and Bucky.

You woke up before Steve or Bucky, which wasn’t that surprising since you got nearly a full night’s sleep on the couch while they were flying. The bedside clock read 9:00am and both boys were sleeping soundly. Steve’s arm around you was warm and pleasant, but the idea of breakfast was too tempting to push away. Extrapolating yourself from Steve’s grip proved more difficult than you anticipated, so you finally lifted his arm and pushed it backwards gently so it laid atop Bucky’s and that did it. They curled into each other without waking and you were able to slip out.

Before they could freak out, you left a note for them that read _Breakfast at 10!_ on a notepad you found that was shaped like Steve’s shield, most certainly purchased by Tony. You texted Sam to ask where he’d gotten the donuts you had yesterday and he offered to go with you, especially when you said you were getting Starbucks and breakfast sandwiches from the café down the street.

Sam met you in the garage and suggested driving since the late November temperatures were chillier than normal. You suspected this was a thinly veiled excuse to “borrow” one of Tony’s cars, but you didn’t call him on it. You darted into the café to order sandwiches and the owner (who knew you lived with Captain America, since Steve _loved_ this place) offered to bring them to the car so you wouldn’t have to wait in the crowded shop. Sam was already back in the car, having walked down the street to grab the donuts, and you could tell he was itching to ask you a question.

“You’re not good at acting cool, Sam,” you admonished, rolling your eyes good naturedly. Sam laughed and slapped the steering wheel, “You got me. I want to ask you about something, but you don’t have to answer.” You sighed, telling yourself he was coming from a place of concern, “Go ahead.” Sam seemed to study his hands for a second before straightening up and asking, “So are you and Clint…together?” You answered, “Yeah. We are together, but it’s been like not even two days.” Sam seemed relieved and his shoulders relaxed, “Oh okay. I’m glad, I think you guys will be good for each other and far be it from me to interfere in your relationships,” he paused, fumbling a bit.

You decided to help him out, “But?” Sam looked at you and you could see his composure switch from concerned friend to therapist and he asked in an even tone, “Are you sure you’re ready to go into a romantic relationship? It probably goes without saying that your last one,” he started and you cut him off, “I don’t want to talk about that, Sam. Not because I don’t trust you, but I don’t want to talk about it again if I can avoid it.” He nodded and patted your arm, “Sorry I didn’t mean anything by it, but I am concerned. Not because I don’t trust Clint or anything, but you’re important to me. Not just to me, of course, but you get what I’m saying.” You smiled at him and said, “That’s sweet, Sam. I appreciate it, I really do, but Clint’s a good guy and I’m extremely cautious. It’ll be fine.” The knock on the window startled you, so you reached out and grabbed the food, thanking the man and promising to come back with Steve in tow another day.

You were standing in Starbucks, waiting for coffee when Sam nudged you, “I trust you and I trust Barton. But you can bet I’ll be keeping an eye on him. And you for that matter.” Grabbing the coffee, you got back into Tony’s car before you answered, “I have no problem with that, Sam, but you may also have to keep track of Bucky. Steve will probably just give Clint lots of stern looks, but Bucky worries me.” Sam pulled into the Tower’s garage, eyes bugging out of his head as he parked the car and grabbed the food. “They don’t know yet?” You shook your head, “They don’t know it’s Clint, actually.”

In the elevator, Sam was silent, but he seemed to be holding in a laugh. He followed you into the kitchen and sat the food down. Steve wandered into the kitchen and sniffed the air, looking ridiculous with his hair sticking up, wearing an old Yankees shirt and outrageous pajama pants with colorful cartoon dinosaurs all over them, a gift from Natasha. “Sam!” he exclaimed with a huge smile, striding across the kitchen to pull Sam into a fierce hug. Sam chuckled and slapped Steve on the back, but before he could let go, Bucky came flying in suddenly and hugged Sam as well.

The man in the middle continued laughing and gave up trying to escape until they released him. “Good to see you guys, too, but I have to go.” You all three frowned at him, but he shook his head, grabbing his sandwich and coffee off the counter before making his way to the elevator, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he went by. You turned around and crossed your arms, faking offense, “So Sam’s the only one who gets love around here?”

Steve protested, “I carried you to bed!” but Bucky was already across the room, drawing you into his chest and you wanted to continue being offended, but you _missed_ them, damn it. Bucky seemed to know this already (and you really had to talk to him about his mind reading skills) and smoothed his hand down the back of your head, “It’s all right,” he murmured after you’d hung on longer than usual. Steve looked alarmed and promptly sat down the food he was pulling out of the bags to come over and hug you too. You knew your hands were shaking because Steve said, “Oh honey,” and covered one of your hands with his.

They continued to hold you until the smell of coffee was too overwhelming to ignore. You sat at the counter and ate, Bucky sat beside you; Steve stayed standing, seemingly unable to keep himself still. Breakfast passed quickly and quietly before Bucky turned to you, wiping donut glaze off of his fingers on his napkin, and said cooly, “So, are you going to tell us about your dates and your mystery man or are we going to have to guess?” You pretended to think about it, “Hmmm…” Steve somehow looked anxious, and eager, leaning on his forearms on the counter. “Well, first off the dates went really well, so we decided to see each other on a more regular basis.” Steve nodded, listening carefully, but Bucky shook his head, “Great. No who is this bastard?” “You’re not going to believe me,” you tried, but it did not work.

“Try us,” challenged Steve. Their twin looks of genuine concern were so heartwarming that you caved immediately, “Okay, okay. Stop with the looks,” they shared another triumphant glance which faded promptly when you admitted, “It’s Clint. I’m dating Clint.” Bucky blinked twice and Steve choked so severely on his coffee that you almost had to go around the counter and thump his back. “Barton?” Steve gasped, as if you knew another one. You nodded and Bucky echoed him, “Barton? Like Hawkeye. Clint Barton who lives in the Tower and shoots arrows?”

“That’s the one,” you said, completely unsure of how to proceed. They were silent for a few agonizing seconds before Steve asked carefully, like he was choosing every word, “Is he…kind to you?” You nodded, “He’s really sweet. Almost unbelievably so.” Bucky finally got words to form, “You’re sure you’re ready for something like this? I mean, I like Barton, but is he good enough?” You nodded again, “He is. I’m sure.” Steve and Bucky shared an undecipherable look and put their heads together, whispering inaudibly.

Finally, they looked up and stared you down. Steve started, “If you’re sure, of course we support you, but” Bucky cut him off, “We’re gonna be worried and we’re gonna interrogate Barton. He’s not gonna hurt you on our watch.” It took you a second to process that this was a positive reaction and you eventually said, “Okay. So you’re not mad that I didn’t tell you earlier?” Steve’s face fell as you continued, wringing your hands, “I wanted to tell you guys, but I wasn’t sure it was even going to work out. I’m sorry.”

Steve actually literally jumped over the counter to hug you. “We’re not mad,” he promised. “We get it. But seriously,” he cupped your face and looked at you, “if you’re happy, we’re happy.” Bucky kissed your cheek, “I love you and I’m not mad.” He slapped Steve’s ass, “Stop being so fucking _dramatic_ ,” and Steve swatted him away. Bucky made his way to the elevator and called out over his shoulder, “I’ll be back later. I’ll leave him in one piece.” The doors shut mostly before he added, “Mostly.”

**Thanksgiving**

The week went past in a blur. Huge space monsters attacked Manhattan really late Wednesday evening and you spent the night on the couch in Tony's suite, anxiously watching the news with Pepper. It was early Thanksgiving morning by the time they'd cleaned up and made it back to medical, with only some injuries but mostly worn out. You spent the day going between the medical bay (Clint had shattered his wrist and needed stitches on his side), Tony's lab (Bucky's arm was malfunctioning), and your floor (threatening Steve that if he got out of bed before the gashes across his arm and down his right leg were healed that you'd give him more). 

Around noon, Clint was released, clinging to your hand and extremely loopy on painkillers. You got him into the elevator and he plastered himself to you as soon as the door closed, hugging you and waxing poetic about how you were "so nice" and "fuckin' gorgeous" and asking once you got him into his apartment, "could you just stay and snuggle for a few minutes? Please?"

You couldn't really resist those eyes, so you got him into bed propped up against his headboard and tried not to think about how this was the first time you'd been in Clint's room let alone his bed. His head was lolling against your shoulder and the relentless way he was kissing and licking at your neck, telling you how much he adored the way you smelled and the taste of your skin in a way that was so much more verbose than Clint had been as long as you’d known him. You knew it was the drugs talking, but part of you hoped it was at least somewhat true, soyou moved him onto his pillow and stroked his cheek, his forehead, the side of his neck, hoping to entice him to calm down and sleep. 

You found a spot on his neck that seemed to be especially sensitive and, when you really dug your fingertips in, he shivered and seemed to relax, grinning up at you in a drug-induced haze. "D'you wanna know a secret?" he asked, trying to put a finger over your lips but landing on your arm instead. "Sure," you said, not sure what was going to come out of his mouth. "No one ever takes such good care of me as you," he said seriously, "I want you to be with me forever." 

Leaning down, you cradled his head softly in your hands, and kissed him because you wanted it so badly to be true, regardless of whatever was coursing through his veins. He smiled against your lips and you threaded your fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss until his head was getting heavy in your hands and you released him slowly and pulled away.  He sighed contentedly as you tucked the covers in around him and turned off the lights. "Go to sleep, Clint," you whispered, and you could already hear him snoring when you got to the elevator. 

On your way up to check on Steve, Jarvis informed you that Bucky was nearly finished in the lab and would be on his way soon as well. You walked into a very silent apartment and stuck your head in the bedroom, relieved to find Steve actually in bed. You tried to leave quietly, but Steve said, "Wait," so you stopped and he waved you over. "I promise I'll go to sleep, but I need something first." You looked at his bedside table with held water, a book, and his phone. "What?" He pushed himself up so he was sitting, holding out his uninjured arm, "A hug?" You immediately sat down too and wrapped your arms around him. 

"Thank you for taking care of my stubborn ass, and Bucky's grumpy ass, and I'm sure Clint would thank you too if he wasn't high," he laughed at his own joke, but you didn't. You'd seen a lot of injuries in the past year and Clint's badly broken wrist was far from the worst of it. Steve moved his hand to cup the back of your head, "Hey now," he gently pushed your head down until it was resting against his shoulder, "Clint's gonna be okay. He's pulled through much worse than this." 

You nodded and heard yourself say, "But he's not super." Steve seemed to consider this before he asked, "What do you mean?" You inhaled a shaky breath, closer to tears that you'd want to admit, "I mean like you and Bucky have the shield and the arm and the serums. Bruce has the hulk, Tony has the suit, Sam has the wings." Steve hummed and started running his fingers through your hair. "I didn't think about it before today," you continued, "but he's just a regular guy. Out there doing stuff without a healing factor or armor. What if he gets really hurt, Steve?" 

You were crying a little; Steve could feel the hot tears hit his skin. He thought for a minute, moving his hand down to rub circles into your neck. He didn't want to say that it wouldn't happen because it could. He didn't want to say he'd watch out for Clint because he couldn't guarantee that and Clint didn't need a babysitter. "What we do is dangerous," he started, "but we're all very capable, Clint included. And we care about the people we save, so we're willing to put ourselves out there." 

"The point, Steve?" you asked and he squeezed you tight, "The point is that Clint might get hurt, but he cares a lot about you. So he won't be careless with his safety because he wants to come back to you." You sniffed and added, "You better not be careless either, but thank you. That makes me feel a little better." Steve doubted that, but he let you go, settling back down into his pillow. You turned off the lights and left the room, begging Steve to rest.

You flopped on the couch and shut your eyes only to hear the elevator ding and Bucky cursing under his breath as he got off and stalked over to you. He was shirtless and scratching at the place where his metal arm joined his torso. The skin was red and puffy; just looking at it made you hurt.  "Rough day?" you asked, tilting your head to get a better look at the inflammation. Bucky huffed, "You could say that." Looking at his tired expression and eyes that looked on the brink of tears, you felt your heart break a little. There was pain Bucky bore that no one else would ever understand, so you offered what you could, "Want to sit here with me and  _not_  talk about it?" 

Relief washed over Bucky's face and he sat. You raked your nails across his scalp and started in on defanging his hair. Playing with Bucky's hair was the best way to distract him and, after a few seconds, he slumped against your side and pressed his forehead into your shoulder. The two of you sat there for the rest of the afternoon, watching trashy reality TV and offering each other the gift of not having to share your feelings for awhile. 

~

At the hastily thrown together Thanksgiving dinner late that night, Clint was very quiet. You were really hoping he wasn't in a lot of pain and your concern must've been evident because he put his uninjured hand on your knee and swept his thumb back and forth until you looked up at him. He looked around the table quickly and then mouthed, "I'm fine." You gave him a small smile and he went back to eating. 

After dinner, everyone was distracted arguing over whether it was too early to watch a Christmas movie since it was almost midnight and Clint waved you into the hallway. "Hey, umm," he started, looking awkward, "I'm sorry about earlier. I was hopped up on meds and I didn't know what I was doing." You held up your hand to stop him, "Clint, what are you apologizing for, exactly?" He shrugged and looked at his feet, "I asked Jarvis if I said anything while you were helping me and I did so I figured it probably wasn't good."

You suppressed an eye roll and asked Jarvis to show you and Clint exactly what happened. Clint's eyebrows were knit together until the footage ended. He looked over at you and said, "I guess you're not mad?" You shook your head, "The opposite, actually. You're so much more  _talkative_  all drugged up." Suddenly, Clint had an arm around your waist, dragging you up close to him and his hand was on your back, holding you firmly, pressing you against his chest. He ducked his head to press his lips lightly against your cheek. You shivered and he breathed into your ear, "You know, I mean what I said earlier." 

"Which part?" you asked. "All of it, but especially how I never want you to leave. Ever." He pulled his head back up and kissed the tip of your nose, "Steve talked to me earlier." You felt your shoulders sag, "He did?"

"And if it wasn't for the fact that I was...unavailable, I'd be telling you that you should've come to me and told me what was bothering you. But you should know that I don’t mind you being worried about me. It’s nice that someone cares that much about me. I haven’t had that in awhile.” You couldn’t help yourself, you had to smile at him and he smiled back, “So,” he whispered, voice soft again, looking around you to see down the hall, “I bet we’ve got like five more minutes before someone comes looking for us.”

If you strained, you could still hear the faint sounds of someone saying, “Frosty is a _classic_ , Steve!” and then Steve’s voice arguing back. Slowly, so as not to bump his broken wrist, you wrapped your arms around his neck and whispered conspiratorially, “Steve’s involved. We probably have like 10.” Clint surprised you then by leaning forward and enfolding you in tender, one-armed hug. He leaned his head against yours and said, “Thank you for taking care of me. This has been the best post-mission day I’ve had in a long time.” You chuckled and hooked your chin over his shoulder, “You _shattered_ your wrist, babe.” Testing out the pet name was a little strange, but Clint didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m not mad about it,” he said, sighing quietly when you scratched your nails through the short hair at the base of his skull. You didn’t speak and he continued, “Bruce says I’m out for at least four weeks, possibly six.” The pieces clicked and you tried not to raise your voice, “So you’ll be around here until after New Year’s?” Clint held you close to him and said, “Yep, just doing boring paperwork, probably during normal work hours. So I’ll have lots of free time and it’s Christmas and I was hoping maybe you’d hang around the Tower more…”

You planted your hands on his shoulders so you could lean back and look him in the eye, “I was going to wait until tomorrow to tell you, but Steve and Bucky and I were already planning on staying here through Christmas.” His face lit up and you kept going, “Bruce has a ton for me to do lately, so I’m staying and the boys are going to bring all of our stuff over tomorrow.” Clint leaned forward and pecked you on the lips, “No pressure, but I’m already thinking this’ll be the best Christmas ever and it’s not even December.”

It felt like the world slowed down for a second while your eyes roamed over his face and your stomach did somersaults. Licking your lips, you asked, not caring how eager you sounded, “Do we still have time to make out a little?” His nose wrinkled in amusement and you barely kept your head together because he was _so_ freakin’ _cute_.

He got out, “Anything you want, beautiful,” before you’d closed the gap and kissed him for real this time. You were so distracted by his mouth and his tongue and the fact that he tasted like pumpkin; you didn’t notice when Tony came out into the hallway and saw the two of you. You did, however, feel Clint’s hand leave your back and return briefly. He was, unbeknownst to you, flipping Tony off without breaking away from you.

~

While you were thoroughly busy paying no mind to anyone but Clint, Tony ran back in the common room, arms waving wildly and promptly told everyone in the room (which was only Steve, Bucky, Bruce, and Pepper) exactly what was happening in “my hallway in _my_ Tower!” All four of them fixed Tony with unimpressed looks. He practically shrieked, “Does everyone know about this now? C’mon, Cap! You’re not even a tiny bit scandalized?” Steve looked at Tony with his disappointed face, “No, Tony. I am not scandalized by two people I care about very much finding happiness with each other.”

Tony’s mouth hung open and he looked to Bucky, but instantly regretted his decision when the latter sprung out of his seat and got into Tony’s space. “You trying to say that you’re bothered by my girl having a normal, healthy romantic relationship?” Tony shook his head, standing his ground, but his eyes betrayed a bit of genuine fear. “Good. And if you’re going to make her feel bad about what she’s doing, which is a good thing, _by the way_ , not to mention difficult for her, then you and I will have a problem.” Bucky glared at Tony for another long minute before plopping back down next to Steve, throwing his long legs over Steve’s lap.

Tony’s mouth opened and closed a few times before Pepper beckoned him over and sat him down, whispering something in his ear that made him relax and stop gaping. Bruce, for his part, looked enormously tickled.

By the time you and Clint had forced yourselves apart and made it back to the common area, the rest of the room was halfway through _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ and you took a seat on one end of the only empty couch. Clint sat down next to you like it was the most natural thing in the world (and it _felt_ that way), whispering that this was his favorite Christmas movie. You heard a noise to your right and turned to see Steve carding his fingers slowly through a sleeping Bucky’s hair.

Leaning over, you asked, “Is he okay?” Steve nodded, “Just tired, I think. The swelling isn’t as bad.” He looked at you, trying not to smile, “You’re doing better than okay, I hear.” The tips of your ears were red and you could feel Clint’s shoulder shaking with silent laughter because Steve was the least subtle person alive. Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help the little grin that played at your lips. Steve winked at you and turned his attention back to Bucky, kissing his hair and murmuring to him quietly.

Clint was focused on the movie, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he chuckled at something onscreen. Truth be told, you were exhausted from your long day of taking care of everyone, so you hooked your hand into Clint’s elbow and laid your head on his arm, allowing your eyes to finally close. You didn’t see the way Clint looked down at you fondly, but you did feel him nuzzle the top of your head. Bucky let out a loud snore and everyone laughed as quietly as possible.

It was, without a doubt, the best Thanksgiving you’d had in years.


	14. Merry Christmas, Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lateness of this update! I have no excuse except LIFE. Hopefully you still have some warm fuzzies left over from Christmas for this chapter because the next one probably won't be so jolly.

Living in the same building as your new boyfriend was amazing. Distracting, sure, and Bruce made you promise after a near Hulk-out that Clint would only come into the lab if there were no active experiments. But it was still pretty damn wonderful to see him everyday and go on actual dates in the city with minimal surveillance. (Clint opposed your Jarvis-controlled GPS, but you didn’t mind.)

Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Sam were in and out of the Tower in different combinations constantly over those three weeks. Since Clint was out of commission and apparently bad guys the world over were determined to ruin the most wonderful month of the year, they went on near constant undercover missions. Tony and Bruce were working on a few separate projects and some together so they kept strange hours, in and out of the labs at all hours of the day and night.

So, out of all the Tower residents, it was you and Clint who held down the proverbial fort. It was, all in all, a pretty wonderful month until December 23, the night before Christmas Eve. Bucky and Steve were on their way, but wouldn’t make it home until the next afternoon. You’d been up early that morning to get some work done, so when evening came, you told Clint you were tired and went to bed early.

Around 2:00am, you woke up sweating and gasping for breath. You asked Jarvis to turn on all the lights on the floor so you could make sure no one else was on the floor. Walking around didn’t do much to calm your nerves. After a few more minutes, you texted Clint and he responded immediately, _Come up_.

When the elevator doors opened onto his floor, Clint was there, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he said, taking both of your hands and pulling you out of the elevator. 

“Hey,” you said back, squeezing his hands, and you noticed that his eyes were red and his smile didn’t seem real, “what’s wrong?” Clint shook his head, avoiding your gaze, “I could ask you the same question.” You looped an arm around his neck and said, “Are you as tired as I am?” He yawned in response and you pulled him in so your foreheads were resting together and took a breath to steady yourself. “C’mon,” Clint whispered, pulling you down the hallway with him, “Let’s go to bed.”

In his room, you laid down next to Clint and neither of you said anything for a few minutes. After staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, you rolled over to face him and waited for him to speak, but he stared steadfastly upward. You ran a hand up and down his arm, “Want me to go first?” He sighed before flipping so he was facing you as well.

“I don’t know what exactly the dream was about,” you started and Clint didn’t move or speak, so you continued, “It could’ve been my dad, my ex-boyfriend, your run of the mill monster, but whatever it was, it was chasing me and I couldn’t get away.” Your voice was wavering a little and you shivered when you remembered feeling trapped, caged in. Shutting your eyes, you attempted to gather the strength to keep going and you felt an arm wrap around your waist.

“I just kept running and hiding and it would find me. Whoever or whatever it was seemed to be around the corner or under the bed or waiting for me outside the window. It sounds stupid as I’m saying it, but it felt real, Clint. I searched the entire floor before I texted you,” you laughed, but thankfully didn’t burst into tears.

Clint rubbed his hand up and down your side and tried to interrupt, “Baby, I,”

“Of course,” you kept on, “nothing was there, but I couldn’t stop pacing. The place is probably a wreck.” Clint drug his fingers up to the side of your face and tucked your hair back, “It’s not stupid.” A small part of you felt like arguing, but the larger part was too worn out. Clint locked his eyes on yours and said firmly, “But it was just a dream. You’re safe here,” he stroked behind your ear and added, “with me. I won’t let anything happen, okay?”

You nodded and he brushed his lips lightly against yours before he rolled over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling again. For a minute, you watched him lay there; trying to appear calm and relaxed, but his shoulders and neck were obviously tense. His gaze was too focused and his breathing even, but shallow.

Slowly, giving him time to say no or stop you, you laid your palm flat against his chest. Clint watched you curiously, but didn’t say a word, so you rubbed your thumb across his pulse point, sweeping gently over it, feeling his heart beating too fast. He froze, holding himself still against whatever emotion was threatening to take over until you leaned over and trailed feather-light kisses slowly up the side of his neck to his ear and whispered, “Tell me what’s wrong. Let me help.”

Groaning, he grabbed your hand off his chest to lace his fingers in yours and admitted, “I had kind of a rough night, too.” You pulled back enough to be able to see his face, “What happened?” He huffed out a breath, “I saw someone when I was eating lunch with Bruce today who I thought was someone I used to know when I was younger. It wasn’t that person, but the memory of it completely threw me off for the rest of the day.”

You didn’t know much about Clint’s past, but what you did know wasn’t good. It wasn’t necessary for him to elaborate, you could see how distracted he was and it suddenly made sense that he hadn’t asked you to eat dinner with him or come to see you in the lab. Pushing his arm up, you nuzzled your head into his shoulder and threw your arm around him. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, squeezing him as tightly as you’d been wanting to since you woke up.

Clint wrapped an arm around you and dropped a kiss into your hair, “It just…” he took a breath and blew it back out, “it messed me up, you know? I wasn’t expecting it, and I thought I was over that shit, but considering I was trying not to sleep, I guess I’m not.”

~ 

Hours passed while you lay in bed, listening to his heart beat under your ear. Clint appeared lost deep in thought and you dozed on and off, feeling part of your heart break for whatever your boyfriend had gone through to upset him so badly. In the morning, you told him you had to go get dressed for the day and he looked deflated, tired, entirely unlike himself. So you promised to come back up and eat breakfast with him, just to see him attempt a smile.

On your way back up, you texted Bruce and told him to email you the file he wanted you to look over and you’d work on it later. He didn’t respond immediately and you weren’t the least bit surprised. It was a holiday now, after all.

Clint didn’t talk, so all you heard during breakfast was the spoons clanking against the bowls. Lucky Charms was to become a staple in your diet, it seemed. When you were rinsing the dishes, Clint blurted out, louder than he meant to, “Don’t go to work.” Surprised at his outburst (but not at his request), you turned and looked at him expectantly and he begged, “Please just stay with me until everyone gets back this afternoon.”

Drying your hands, you turned around and almost ran into him, “I’ll stay with you,” you promised, squeezing his arm, “But we should go somewhere and clear our heads, you know? Get out this Tower for awhile?” Clint leaned down and kissed you before he agreed, “You’re right.” He grabbed his coat and handed you yours as you headed to the elevator, “It sounds very not Christmas-y, but there’s this movie I’ve been dying to see with lots of explosions and very little plot if you really want to escape.” You smiled at him and grabbed his hand in yours, linking your fingers together, “Whatever you want.”

~

Later that afternoon, you were waiting for Steve and Bucky to come back from medical (standard post-mission check up, no injuries) biting your nails and worrying about presents, so you jumped when Steve appeared in the kitchen and said, “Merry Christmas!” He laughed at your surprised and swept you up in a big bear hug.

You shook your head and asked him to put you down. He smacked a kiss on your forehead and said, “Did you miss me? Bucky’s taking a shower so don’t freak out when he comes in too.” You plopped down at the table and asked, “How did it go?” Steve said it went well, a simple op that didn’t really require all four of them, but it was good to have backup, he surmised. You were trying to listen, you really were, but you were so preoccupied that you were chewing on your sleeve.

“So,” Steve got up and pulled a sandwich out of the fridge, tipping his head to you in thanks, “what’s the matter with you? Got some holiday jitters?” Deciding to go with a direct approach, you mumbled, “Can I show you what I got Clint and you be honest and tell me if it sucks?”

Steve looked like he wanted to laugh before he fixed you with a Captain America face, “I’m always honest, ma’am.” Rolling your eyes, you unlocked your phone and showed him a picture of the cardigan you’d bought. It was a good brand, thick and wooly to keep out the NYC winter and a deep purple color with black piping. It’d been expensive, sure, but it would suit him, you hoped. Steve looked at it thoughtfully and concluded, “It’s really nice.” Scrunching up your nose, you asked, “Nice enough for a first Christmas?” Steve clicked your phone shut and assured you, “It’s so thoughtful. He’ll love it.”

~

That night’s dinner and resulting video game tournament kept everyone up until the wee hours of Christmas morning. And, considering half of the people in attendance were wiped from a mission, you all decided to go ahead and open gifts, then meet late in the afternoon for more food. The photo book you had made for Steve and the hat, scarf, fingerless glove combo you’d found for Bucky were big hits as were the tickets to the first Dodgers game of the next season (in a box of course, courtesy of Tony). They protested you spent too much, but you waved them off and saw how giddy they were, already planning their baseball date.

Clint opened your sweater and immediately put it on, beaming at you. You blushed and he came over to kiss you on your cheek and prod you to open his gift, a leather bound journal with your initials embossed on the cover and instructions to open it. On the inside cover it said there was a story inside and that you could add your own. Taking a shaky breath, you asked, “Should I read it now?” Clint nodded, looking more than a little nervous. On the first page you read in a careful version of Clint’s scratchy handwriting,

_You asked me a few months ago how long I’d liked you. Well, like isn’t a strong enough word. Yes, you’re beautiful and funny and a hell of a lot smarter than I’ll ever be, but my feelings for you are more than like. I like pizza. I like being an Avenger and having super friends and living in this crazy tower. But there’s only one thing in the world that I love and that’s you. I love you. I love your smile and your hands and when you talk about science. I love your eyes and your ears and how you’re always willing to listen. I love you, baby. I wanted to say that for a long time, but I knew if I said it out loud, I’d never get all of my thoughts out. So here, on paper, forever in this book are the three truest words I’ve ever thought, written, or said: I. Love. You. Merry Christmas._

Fighting back an onslaught of happy tears, you grabbed Clint and tugged him into the big communal kitchen, ignoring Tony’s loud protests and gasped, “You love me?” He nodded and put a steadying hand on your shoulder, “I do. I love you.” He grinned broadly as he said it and you couldn’t help yourself any longer so you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him before tilting back and grabbing his face in your hands. Clint’s eyebrows rose comically and he looked like he was about to speak when you did, “I love you, too.”

His eyes softened and he leaned back in to kiss you again and you wanted to melt into it, but Clint’s wrist was giving you pause. He’d gotten the cast off, but the doctor recommended keeping it wrapped for another week; you didn’t want to reinjure him. He broke the kiss and said teasingly, "I can hear you over thinking," before he leaned against the wall and crooked his fingers at you. You came closer and an involuntary shudder ran down your spine and you got goose bumps from the way he was eyeing you. For the first time in a long while (maybe ever) you were 100% sure that someone wanted you and the feeling was electrifying. 

Clint's expression faltered slightly, but before he could say anything you crowded back against him, bringing a hand up to cup his face and kissed him slowly for a minute, smoothing your other hand to stroke down his side as you pressed closer, kissed harder. You wondered absentmindedly how long you could get away with making out enthusiastically in the kitchen when someone cleared their throat loudly. 

To your abject horror and Clint's delight, it was Steve, who had an eyebrow raised in an attempt to disapprove, but his lips were trembling like he was holding back a laugh. “Umm, I just was going to make coffee unless this room is occupied.” If there was a time you wished you could teleport, it was now. Steve moved around the counter and started the coffee maker while Clint (the bastard) squeezed your hip and whispered without really whispering, “To be continued,” before making his exit.

You walked around the counter and poured yourself a cup of coffee while steadfastly ignoring Captain America’s snickering. He bumped his shoulder against yours once he’d gotten his laughter under control and said, “I’m sorry. I’m being mean.” You shook your head and laughed too, “Well I was the one necking in a common area.”

Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “You know, you have not been this relaxed since…ever.” Shrugging, you agreed, “Yeah, well I’m happy.” The smile that Steve gives you is more of a smirk, “Glad to know all those threats worked,” He traipsed out of the kitchen before you could say anything, so he didn’t see the way you opened and closed your mouth like a fish before laughing again. At least they were true to their word.

~

When you did make it back to the living room, Natasha high-fived you and you blushed so hard you were pretty sure your toes were pink.

Bruce was sleeping in the big armchair, cuddled up in a blanket Bucky bought for him. 

Tony was listening (for once) dutifully to Pepper telling him exactly when dinner will be arriving (4:00 pm) and what to wear (not the new iron man suit, please, Tony). 

Steve reappeared with a big tray of pastries, which he brought over and slid onto the coffee table, to everyone's approval. 

You ended up perched on the arm of the sofa by Bucky because Clint and Natasha were doing their weird spy/best friend-whispering thing. Though, to be fair, Clint had been signing some things to you one-handed that definitely shouldn't be said out loud but also made the blush on your cheeks burn hotter. 

Bucky looked up at you and motioned for you to lean down. He whispered, "I take it you liked Clint's gift?" Good grief. You weren't living this down anytime soon. "Yeah," you whispered back, putting a hand on his shoulder for balance, "He said he loves me." Bucky nodded thoughtfully and touched his metal fingers to your cheek, “That why you’re flushed more than that one time you ran with Steve?” Offended, you fumbled with a response and Bucky had the audacity to wink at you and say, “He better be as gone on you as he says or else.” Clint may have been having a conversation with Natasha, but by the way his head whipped around, he was better at multitasking than you thought.

You all parted ways soon after and you went to Clint’s floor because Bucky hadn’t given Steve the second part of his present yet and _licked his lips_ when he said that. You’d have to avoid them for at least an hour, maybe two. Unsure of what to expect, you stood awkwardly by the couch while Clint used the bathroom. As if sensing your apprehension (or perhaps reading it on your super obvious face) he rubbed your upper arms and said, “Hey. We said slow, right?”

You nodded and he brushed his lips against your forehead before hugging you gently, leaning his head against yours and settling into the embrace for a few minutes. Gradually, you felt yourself relax in his arms as you remembered Clint loved you. He knew all (or at least most) of your crap and he still wanted you. Without breaking away from you, he said, “I’m sorry that got out of hand earlier. I don’t ever want you to think you _have_ to do anything with me.” You pulled away slightly and said, looking in his ridiculous eyes, “Don’t apologize. I didn’t try to stop you. I wanted to, but,” Clint put a finger up to your lips, “You don’t have to get into it if you don’t want to. Not today at least.”

“I don’t want to get into it right now,” you said and he nodded, “It’s Christmas. We’ll pump the brakes on voyeuristic make outs. You know what I want to do now?” Shaking your head, you watched with amusement as he looked around for his remote, finally finding it wedged under a couch cushion. “I want to watch the all day Christmas Story marathon and lay on the couch with you until we have to get dressed for the Avengers Christmas dinner.”

You laid on Clint’s left side and listened to his heartbeat and the steady in-and-out of his breathing rather than pay the movie much attention. His loud laughter every time someone told Ralphie he’d shoot his eye out made your head jostle a bit, but you didn’t care. Clint played with your hair while he watched and kissed the top of your head on a commercial break and said, “Merry Christmas, baby.” Turning your head, you placed a small kiss on his chest, unsure if he could feel it under the cardigan you bought him and replied, “And a happy new year.”


	15. Missions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am so sorry that this took so long to finish!! I promise I was working on it, but I'm trying to figure out how to wrap it up and it's so much harder than I anticipated. I also apologize for the ending. It's gonna be sad, but it'll be happy in the end. :)

Riding to the roof in the elevator with Clint's hand clutching yours tightly was the most miserable thing you'd done in months. He bumped his shoulder into yours and said, "I'll be back in a week. Promise." The pair of you stepped out onto the roof and Tony was already in the quinjet, Bucky was talking quietly to Steve and Natasha was checking weapons. 

Clint was suddenly in front of you. He put his hands on either side of your neck and leaned in close, "Eat. Sleep. Watch out for Steve too, okay?" You nodded and swallowed back the tears you knew would come eventually. He brushed his lips against your cheek and whispered against your skin, "I love you." You put your arms around his middle and said, "Love you too," and he kissed you, soft and sweet. Tony wolf whistled in the distance and you and Clint flipped him off simultaneously. Clint kissed you a little more passionately, and you clung to him for a minute before he broke away and walked onto the jet, looking back and smiling weakly before he disappeared from your sight. 

Bucky hugged and kissed Steve before making his way on as well, waving and blowing a kiss in your direction as he went. You managed to smile and wave back before the jet roared to life and you went back toward the elevator. Steve's hearing wasn't affected by the sound like yours were and you knew he liked to watch the jet take off safely. In the quiet of the elevator, you let yourself cry and Jarvis let you out on Clint’s floor without asking. Since you knew Bruce wouldn’t expect you immediately, you went back into Clint’s bedroom and laid on the bed, burying your face in his pillow and letting yourself wallow for a while. 

~

Late the night before, you'd sat on the edge of Clint's bed, listening to his shower run and trying to figure out how to apologize. The thing was, he didn't even seem upset. 

You'd had an argument about the mission he was leaving for in the morning. Technically, he was cleared for work, but Tony had let it slip just how dangerous this undercover stunt was and you'd let him have it. "Really, Clint," you'd said loudly, "you're going to go into the enemy camp for a week and infiltrate. You'll be sleeping next to terroristsE! And your back up will be across the border, hours away." 

Clint just nodded and continued to pack his tactical gear and asked you to hand him a pair of pants he'd left in the closet. You did as he asked and forced yourself to breathe before you blurted out, "Why aren't you mad?" Calmly, Clint zipped up his duffel bag and turned to face you, "I understand why you're upset. It is super dangerous, but this is what I do. I'm very good at it." He walked over to you and gripped your shoulders, "I don't mind that you're mad, plus Tony wasn't supposed to tell you anyway. I'm still going regardless, though. It's my call." He bent over and pecked your forehead before walking into the bathroom and rummaging around for something. 

It was really hard to keep arguing when he was so infuriatingly patient, so you retreated into the kitchen to do what Bruce had told you to do when you were upset: take 3 deep breaths, drink a cup of cold water, and take three more deep breaths. By the time you finished the water you were mostly calmed down. You finished out the breathing and you know Clint was right; it wasn't your call. And you both knew that you were mostly just scared for his safety. Thinking back over your tone and words, shame swept through your gut. 

You shouldn't have said it. You shouldn't have insinuated he didn't know what he was doing even if he was reckless sometimes. You were a terrible girlfriend and you'd be lucky if he wasn't ready to leave you.   
Logically, you knew this train of thought was ridiculous, but it was really hard to convince your brain to stop. So you walked back into the bedroom and sat down on the end of the bed, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment creep up your neck and fan out across your cheeks. 

The shower shut off shortly and Clint emerged, wearing plaid pajama pants and no shirt, rubbing a towel through his hair.   
(Under different circumstances, you'd probably be admiring his toned chest and stomach. Sure, Steve and Bucky and Thor were huge and muscly and impressive, but, in your opinion, Clint was quietly hot. He was all lean muscle except for his impressive biceps, and just picturing his abs got you through many a long work day.) 

"Hey," he said while he tossed the towel in the vague direction of the laundry hamper, " wasn't sure you'd still be here." You forced yourself to look up and say, "I'm sorry." Clint was still moving around the room when he responded casually, "I told you I'm not mad." He stopped when you didn't respond and came to sit beside you. 

"What’s up?" He squeezed your arm and looked so understanding that you just said blurted it all out at once, "I'm sorry I said any of it. I know you can do your job. I'm sorry. I'm a terrible girlfriend." 

"Woah, woah," Clint said, sliding an arm around your shoulders, "I never said anything like that." He nudged his nose against your cheek, "Don't say stuff like that. You're awesome." He kissed his way down your neck and paused, resting his head against your shoulder, "I think it's sweet that you're worried, and I promise I'll be as safe as I can be." He straightened up and looked you in the eye, "You just gotta trust me, okay?" 

You nodded and bit your lip, "I trust you." The way Clint smiled at you just then was enough to melt you into a puddle right there where you sat. His fingers reached out and tucked your hair back behind your ear before he leaned in and kissed you, soft at first, but you were so relieved and still kind of scared, so you wrapped your arms around his neck and licked at his lips. You tried as best you could to memorize the taste and the feeling of him. 

After a few minutes, Clint pulled away slowly and scooted up the bed, patting the space next to him, "Wanna stay?" You crawled up beside him and wrapped all of your limbs around him like a clingy octopus and he laughed, "That's a yes?" You smiled and nuzzled his shoulder, "Yes."

~

You had a ton of work to do with Bruce in the lab, so you didn't see Steve again until Bruce insisted you take a few hours off late in the afternoon. 

You: Hey, you on your floor?

Steve: Yes.☺ You coming up?

You: Yep. Be there in two seconds.

You stepped out of the elevator and smelled...Italian food? Steve was in the kitchen, humming to himself when you approached and he set his spoon down immediately to come over and hug you. The force of his embrace lifted you off the ground and you felt yourself relax for the first time all day. 

"You doing okay?" He asked quietly, rubbing your back a little and it was so nice you could've cried again. "Honestly, not really," you said, squeezing him back. He chuckled, "Oh good. Me either." he let you go and reached over to turn his pasta down and oh my god did that sauce on the opposite burner smell amazing. 

You started to get our plates and utensils while Steve kept talking, "I forgot how much I don't like being left behind. It really isn't any fun." You agreed while you got out glasses, "It sucks, doesn't it?" Steve nodded while he served up a normal portion of pasta onto your plate, and then put an enormous amount onto his plate and topped them both with sauce. 

It was so good that you didn't even talk while you ate, just listened to Steve explain that he learned it from YouTube and wanted to surprise Bucky with it when he gets back, so he figured you wouldn't mind being his Guinea pig. 

Before your final bite, you grabbed his arm and said seriously, "Steve," he looked up curiously, "That is the most delicious thing I've ever had. What is it?" Steve ducked his head and feigned shyness, but you could tell his was very pleased with himself. 

"It's bolognese and Bucky loves Italian food, so I figured I'd give it a shot." You shoved your last bite in your mouth and sighed, "If he doesn't love it, I will eat all of his." Steve laughed and finished his own plate before stretching his arms up in the air and suggesting with raised eyebrows, "It seems a shame to have Italian food and no wine." 

"If I drink," you said slowly, finally realizing what was happening and being totally fine with it, "I can't go back to the lab tonight. Or at least I shouldn't." Shrugging, Steve looked through a couple of drawers for a bottle opener, "True, but maybe that's a good thing." Rolling your eyes, you pulled the magnetic opener off the side of the fridge and handed it to him, "Was this your plan all along? Feed me and give me alcohol so I'll slow down and not work all night?" 

Steve carefully poured two very full glasses of expensive-looking red wine and handed one to you, "Well technically it was Clint's plan, but Bruce and I just went along for the fun of it." 

~ 

If you had the capacity to be annoyed right then, you would’ve been, but you just felt drowsy and content. You weren’t drunk, but you were pleasantly buzzed. Of course, the wine did nothing for Steve, but you had two big glasses because it was just so tasty and you didn’t really want to work any more. 

Steve slid down the couch and sprawled his legs across the coffee table, looking as lazy as you felt. So you cuddled up to him and laid your head on his stomach. Steve combed his fingers gently through your hair while he talked on the phone to Bucky quietly, like maybe everyone else was asleep on the plane. 

"Oh yeah," he was saying, massaging your scalp with his artist fingers, "don't forget to ask for backup if you need it. I'm the reckless one around here, Buck." Steve laughed and hung up. More might've happened, but you started to fall asleep before you could ask how everyone was. 

The last thought you had before drifting off was how stupidly lucky you were to have this many people who cared about your well being. After you fell asleep, Steve leaned down and kissed your head before picking up his book off the coffee table. He wouldn't be able to sleep for awhile, but he thought he could keep you comfortable while you did. 

~

Five days passed similarly; you worked, Steve attended meetings and went to the gym, and you both took turns cooking. (Steve was very impressed by your enchiladas, so you had no leftovers ever.) 

One night in the middle of the week Steve has a nightmare and you were glad he insisted he couldn’t sleep alone. Steve’s bad nights weren’t as consistent as Bucky’s, but they still needed attention. Thankfully, that particular night wasn’t too bad.

Steve woke up breathing heavily and wide-eyed. After a few minutes of tense silence, Steve seemed to snap out of his head and flopped back down on his back, scrubbing his hands over his face. 

Cautiously, you laid back down next to him and asked, “You wanna talk about it?” Steve shrugged, “It was the same old reliving the past dream I’ve had a thousand times.” He didn’t seem too torn up about it, but his slightly trembling hands betrayed him. 

The blankets pooled around your lap when you sat up beside him and slowly ran gentle fingers through his hair. Steve let his head fall to your lap and murmured, “Thank you,” before falling quickly back to sleep. 

Sleep evaded you, however, for most of the night. An hour passed before you fumbled in the darkness for your phone. Turning the brightness all the way down so it wouldn’t wake Steve, you scrolled through your camera roll. A picture of Steve and Bucky under the mistletoe and a shot of Tony and Bruce looking intense over a computer screen made the corners of your mouth turn up. Your throat felt tight when you found a picture of you and Clint, huddled together against the cold, with snow falling around you. You were smiling at the camera, but Clint was staring at you, his nose crinkled up and his eyes fond. 

Quickly, before your sensible, more-awake side could take over, you texted Clint with the picture attached: Hey, babe. I miss you. ☹ I love you. <3 

He likely couldn’t respond because of the whole undercover thing, so you also texted Bucky: Your massive boyfriend’s sleeping on me, send help. 

Thankfully for your late night sanity, he was able to respond: Sorry. He’s a bit of a snuggler. ;) 

And then again, seconds later: It’s like 3:00 AM. Why’re you up? 

You: I was asleep, but once I woke up, I was up for good. 

Bucky: Mmhmm. Likely story. You sure you’re okay? 

You: When you get back, we are ABSOLUTELY talking about your mind reading. 

Almost instantly, your phone started buzzing and Bucky’s face popped up on the screen. As soon as you answered, he picked up the conversation, “Sure thing, doll. But seriously, did you have a nightmare?” You sighed, “No, I didn’t.” He continued, undeterred, “Okay. Then it’s gotta be the mission, right?” Silence on your end spurred him on, “You know I can’t tell you exactly what’s going on, but it’s all on schedule and we should be home on time. Everyone involved is doing great.” 

It was a little silly how relieved you felt, but your breaths were deeper and your heart was slowing. “Thanks, Bucky.” He sounded relieved too when he said, “Anytime, sweetness. I love you and I love Steve. Tell him for me and I’ll pass on your love too, okay?” You smiled and yawned, “Okay. Be safe. Love you too.” Bucky hung up and you moved Steve onto his side you could wrap around him and bury your face in his back. Sleep still didn’t come easy, but at least you could shut your worried brain off and just enjoy cuddling the hell of out Steve. 

~

It was Friday and you were almost done. So close to going back down a few floors and being done with work for the week and seeing Clint in less than 48 hours. Bruce had been mixing some chemicals and was convinced he finally got the formula right. He wouldn't tell you what it was for, only that it was highly acidic so to be very, very careful. 

And you were being so cautious, halfway through transferring the liquid when something crashed down the hall (Dum-E dropped something) and your hand slipped. Some of the concoction splashed out, hitting your right hand and forearm and you cursed loudly. Bruce tried to help you, but when the acid hit his skin, he began transforming instantly. Quick as you could, you finished pouring and snapped the lid shut, but you could swear the skin on your arm was bubbling.

Before you had time to process what was going on, a big hand shoved you into the emergency showers and slammed the door shut, locking you in. Outside, glass shattered and you could’ve sworn a table broke before the unbelievable pain on your right side washed over you and, as you tried to scream but the world around you went dark.


	16. Afterburn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so so so so sorry for how long this has taken me. 
> 
> I'm also sorry that it's probably crap and doesn't make sense.

The world around you was silent and dark. For a moment, you wondered if you were still in the shower, but you didn't feel water raining down on your skin. 

Forcing your eyes open took monumental effort, but you managed, only to be met with what looked like a hospital room. And not a Stark Medical bay room, a real actual room in a hallway with other patients. If you squinted, you could make out someone walking at the end of the hall through the small window in your door. 

_Wait_ , you thought,  _why aren't my machines making noise?_ Then it hit you: there wasn't any sound. A quick glance at your IV showed it dripping and your heart rate monitor was going up and down with your heartbeat, but you couldn't hear any of it. 

Your throat tightened and your pulse quickened as a panic set over you. All you could think was,  _I can't hear. I can't hear. Why can't I hear?_

The panic must've elevated your heart rate because suddenly a few nurses were in your room. Their mouths were moving but you couldn't read their lips and your head was starting to throb. Could you speak? Did it matter? 

Thankfully one of them darted out of the room and the other grabbed the white board off the wall and swiped it clean. She wrote, "Can you hear anything?" Before you could answer, Steve walked in and it was all you could do to not absolutely fall apart with relief.

His mouth was moving too, so you grabbed the board from the nurse and wrote, "No. Only a dull buzzing." The ladies nodded to each other and said something to Steve, who nodded as well and they finally left. 

Steve scribbled on the board and held it in front of you, "Are you okay?" Tears that had gathered in your eyes threatened to spill again and you simply shook your head. Steve wrote underneath his other message, "Can I do anything?" 

You hastily scribbled, "Don't leave again." Steve's face fell slightly and he sat down on the bed beside you, enveloping you in his arms as he did. He was speaking; you deduced that from the vibrations you felt as he was hugging you. You were shaking and he tucked your head under his chin and rocked you slightly.

You wanted to cry, but you held it off, not wanting a headache on top of your throbbing right arm and the whole _not hearing_ thing. 

~

A doctor came and went, looking in your ear and poking at the burn on your arm. The burn looked horrible, but the doctor said it was because of the chemicals. It would be painful, Steve wrote as the doctor talked, but it would heal within a week. 

Your hearing however, was another story. The doctor kept looking at your chart, and then into your ears, and then rubbing around them as he frowned. Steve looked very worried when a specialist was called to look at you more closely as was a CAT scan to check for neurological damage. 

Finally, they all left and you pointed to Steve's phone and said, "Can you text me?" Or at least that's what you hoped; your tongue felt thick and clumsy. He nodded, fishing your phone out of a bag he'd brought and handing it over. A message instantly popped up,

Steve:  _I didn't know if you could still talk. That's good!_

You:  _Did I sound weird?_

Steve reached over and squeezed your hand before texting back, 

_A little, but you can't hear yourself. So it's not a big deal._

Sighing, you frowned and texted back, 

_In other news, my arm/ hand hurts. A lot._

Steve hopped up immediately and checked your IV, still working, then sat back down with a pinched look on his face and texted, 

_There's not much they can do for the pain. :( I'm so sorry, sweetheart._

You stared at the ceiling after you read his text and thought hard, trying to force yourself into positive thoughts. It could've been worse. You could've had burns on your face. They could've caused permanent damage. Then you remembered you couldn't hear and, even though no one was saying it, your deafness could very well be permanent. 

You felt Steve's fingers sliding through your hair and you glanced over at him. He mouthed, "Rest," and you obliged, closing your eyes and hoping that it was temporary.

~ 

The next afternoon, you and Steve were almost ready to leave when Bruce showed up, knocking nervously on the doorframe. You waved him in and he took three steps before stopping and staring at his feet as he mumbled something, and then looked up at Steve pleadingly. Steve shook his head, but he didn't look mad and your phone buzzed,

_Bruce is trying to blame himself for your injuries._

Your head snapped up and you looked worriedly at Bruce before reaching your left hand toward him and making a grabby motion. You took his hand and shook your head slowly while you spoke as clearly as you could, "You saved me."

Bruce looked surprised, so you released his hand to type, 

_You pushed me into the chemical shower as soon as you started transforming. We both know the chemicals could have spread farther and done more damage. I'm okay because of your quick thinking. Thank you, Bruce._

Bruce smiled slightly and let you pull him down for a quick hug before he turned to leave; Steve walked with him and threw you a bright, beaming smile. 

He came back and gathered up all of your things so you could walk down the hall, into the elevator and slide into his car without much hassle. Once you got back to the Tower, Steve made you go straight to your room and lie down, bringing you water and a book and your phone charger. He implored you via text to sleep and to let him know if you needed anything. You agreed and Steve held your face in his hands for a moment, studying you face and stroking your cheeks before he kissed your forehead and turned out the lights. 

 

~

Rolling over to check your phone revealed that it was nearly 7:00am on the day Clint and Bucky (and Nat and Tony) were to return. Before you could get too excited, however, a wave of pain washed over you so intensely that you sat up straight in bed and forced yourself not to scream. 

Your head swam as the pain intensified and you _needed_ to get the wrapping off of your arm, but your hands were shaking and tears were blurring your vision. Panic was bubbling up in your chest and took over completely when your door flew open soundlessly. 

Suddenly a big person was pinning you down and holding your arms by your head, and you were thrashing, struggling fruitlessly, trying to get away but no sound was coming out of your mouth. It hit you instantly that you couldn't hear and all the events of yesterday came flooding back. If you blinked hard you could make out Steve above you, saying something and looking close to tears himself. 

Your muscles wouldn't relax completely, but you stopped fighting and stared up at him, breath coming in raggedly and painfully. Steve didn't let you go, but he did loosen his hold on your wrists and rub his thumbs gently into your palms, the touch bringing you back slowly to the present. 

Agonizingly slowly, your body relaxed by fractions and he eventually sat back and let your arms free. You immediately grabbed the notepad by your bed and scribbled  _I'm sorry_ , _I’m sorry_ , _I’m sorry,_ until Steve eased the paper out of your hands and wrote back simply,  _It's okay_.

He reached out a cautious hand and began rubbing some of the tension out of your shoulder. You slumped forward and let your head fall on Steve’s shoulder, exhausted from your outburst and still in pain, but it was a little less sharp. He typed a quick message to Bruce while you had your eyes shut,

_Her pain is worse than I thought. Is there anything else we can do?_

Steve didn’t move until you did, and then he guided your injured arm gently to his lap and held it there for a moment, studying it. You weren’t sure what he was looking for and he didn’t offer an explanation, but his eyes lit up when he looked over your shoulder at the clock on the wall and mouthed at you slowly,

“Let’s go.”

~

The first thing you noticed when Clint emerged from the elevator into the common living room was a big cut across his right cheek that didn’t look deep, but had to have been painful. The second thing was that he was signing at you frantically and you were too busy staring at his scratch to comprehend what he was saying.

A few things were sure though, he loved you, he was worried about you, and he wanted to know if you were okay. All you could manage to sign back was _I’m fine, but_ _it hurts_ and _I love you too_. Clint looked a little misty-eyed once you stopped signing and he cupped your face in his hands, eyes searching and thumbs stroking gently across your cheeks. He leaned in and kissed you, warm and sweet and entirely too short in your opinion, but he did wrap you up into a hug immediately, gripping you tightly in his arms. He didn’t speak or even try to sign more, he just held you close, so close you could feel his heart beating, and didn’t let go.

~

No one else on the team, Bucky included, had been hurt, so the rest of them were attending debriefings and Steve, bless his beautiful heart, went as Clint’s replacement so he could tell him what he needed to know. Bucky told you later that he even took a notepad and jotted down everything he could.

Thank god for Steve because you weren’t sure you could’ve endured Bruce peeling off your bandages slowly and poking at your burns until you had tears streaming down your face without Clint. He stood in your eye line and signed things like _You’re doing so well_ , and _It’s almost over_ , and _I love you so much_. Bruce was afraid to put anything directly onto your skin that had any chance of reacting to the chemicals, but he did give you some pills to help you sleep and told you to let him know if you’re hearing wasn’t improved by dinner tomorrow night so he could do more tests.

At Clint’s insistence and Bruce’s encouragement, you took one of the pills in the office so you could take a nap and they would all be up in case of reactions. The effects were so quick that Clint half led/half carried you back up to your floor and tucked you into bed immediately. You found the wherewithal to sign sloppily, “I didn’t see Bucky yet!” But Clint pulled the blankets up around you and signed back, “He’s here. Sleep and see him when you wake up.”

You put your hands up to argue more, but Clint swooped in before you could start and kissed you so thoroughly that you, in your very drowsy state, couldn’t remember what you’d wanted to say. He only pulled back when it became clear that you were losing the battle against sleep. Clint continued pressing light kisses to your cheeks and chin and nose with just a hint of desperation. You thought distantly that you understood what he was trying to say; that he was scared and he missed you and he wanted to make it better. All of that calmed your mind and allowed you to sleep peacefully.

~

Waking up to a silent world four mornings in a row was increasingly depressing, but so was staying in your room moping. The pillow next to yours had clearly been slept on, but no one was there. It was already 6:00am, but you figured Clint had been there and couldn’t sleep or was needed somewhere in the Tower.

Everything around you felt fuzzy and far away, the pain included. _What was in those pills?_ You slept for 15 hours so you decided you didn’t really care. Making your way out of your room and down the hall was slow, but it felt nice to be able to do something for yourself if walking counted.

When you walked into the kitchen, Bucky and Steve were already there, unsurprisingly. Steve was making breakfast and Bucky was leaned against the opposite wall talking and smiling that special smile he only broke out when he thought no one was looking. God they were sappy. Sweet, sure, but sappy nonetheless.

Steve waved his spatula at you when you shuffled their way and Bucky stood up straight to study you as you walked toward them. You were positive you looked like death, but had a feeling he wasn’t just looking at your appearance. He didn’t say anything or write anything or try to text you, which was good because your phone was still sitting in its charger. Bucky bit his lip and released it as he leaned back against the wall and waved you over.

Without explanation, he pulled you into him and you went, letting out a breath loudly, you imagined at least that it was loud. You didn’t tremble or cry and Bucky didn’t try to talk to you. He just stood still, cupping your head in one hand and letting his other arm settle around your back.

Very faintly, at the edges of your consciousness, you thought your could hear Steve speaking. No distinct words or anything, but his tone and volume raising and falling with the flow of conversation. Then, all of a sudden, you felt and heard Bucky laugh. You stayed still, not entirely convinced it wasn’t your imagination playing tricks on you.

Nearly convinced you’d just hoped for sound, you heard the elevator ding and pushed back from Bucky to turn and see Clint stepping off, swiping at a tablet and muttering to himself. Your sudden reaction caused Steve and Bucky to stop and look as well.

Clint’s head shot up and he looked at all of you staring at him and said slowly, “What’s going on?” Feeling dizzy with relief, you cupped your hand around your ear and pointed at Clint, voice barely above a whisper, “I can hear you.”

For the barest second, no one moved, no one breathed. And then Clint, as if the impact of your words had just landed, stepped forward and signed, _I missed your voice the most while I was gone._ Steve and Bucky exchanged a perplexed glance but didn’t dare move. You signed back, relief blooming in your belly and making you feel lighter, _I missed your everything_.

Clint looked up at the ceiling and for a second you doubted yourself. Was that too clingy? His head fell back down and he chuckled a little to himself and you could see now that he was fighting between crying and bursting out laughing. Finally, he closed the distance between the two of you and kissed you. As soon as he pulled back he declared quietly, “I love you.”

(You didn’t notice Steve turn to Bucky and point down the hall, so you definitely didn’t notice their silent argument and Bucky huffing, “Fine!” before stomping into their bedroom. Steve followed after him quickly and left you alone with your boyfriend.)

Grabbing Clint’s face in your hands, you demanded, “Again.” Clint obliged, letting his laughter bubble over, “I love you,” and you kissed both of his cheeks before bumping your foreheads together and closing your eyes. “I love you too,” you choked out, more emotional than you realized. Clint pushed your arms up around his shoulders and swept your legs out from under you to carry you to the short walk to your room.

He laid you down gently on top of the covers before lying down next to you and promising, “You’re gonna be okay, baby. You’ve got this.” You shuffled across the bed and buried your face in his neck as he kept talking and he could’ve been reading his grocery list for all you cared. He was _here_ and you could _hear_ him and everything would be okay.

(Bucky definitely did not bang on the wall and shout, “You better keep it PG in there!” Steve also did not tackle Bucky onto the bed and threaten to keep it PG on _him_ for a month if he didn’t shut up.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters and I'll be wrapping up this work!


	17. Clint Barton is the most precious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes a little more...adult turn. There is absolutely nothing NSFW. It is all innuendo, I swear. Next chapter is the last one. :( I'm kind of sad to see it go, but I'm glad to have more time for other things. Thank you all so much for reading!

It was a long weekend and Steve and Bucky were going to be gone on a skiing trip with Natasha. Since Clint was going to stay with you, Steve wasn't too worried about leaving. Bucky took some convincing but with a final (3) hugs and promises to be safe, you were finally blessedly alone. Thank god, because finding any time to be alone with Clint lately had been difficult and frustrating.

You loved your job, but sometimes the hours were insane. You also loved Steve and Bucky, but sometimes they were a bit…overprotective and didn’t really have a healthy sense of boundaries. Admittedly, Steve was better at it than Bucky, but that wasn’t saying a lot. Clint had mentioned a few times that he’d like to get you alone and you wholeheartedly agreed, so this weekend would be perfect.

Or so you hoped.

~

The weather was bitterly cold with a high chance of snow Saturday, so it was ideal for a weekend of staying home. To distract yourself while you waited for Clint to arrive, you made sure there were plenty of blankets, flashlight with batteries, candles, and matches in case of a blackout. The pantry was also bursting full, so no worries about non-perishables, and several gallons of filtered water. Leave it to Bucky to stock you for a nuclear apocalypse. 

A sharp knock on the door brought you out of your thoughts and you let Clint in. You put your hands in his and pulled him inside. For a minute, you couldn’t remember what you wanted to say so you settled for, “Hi.” He kissed both your hands and smiled, “Hi yourself.”

Clint rubbed his nose against yours, making you giggle and pull him toward the couch. You went to sit down, but Clint flopped back against the armrest and yanked you off balance so you landed on top of him. You were going to protest being manhandled when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and said softly, “You’re so pretty.” You blushed immediately and he continued, “How’d I get so lucky, huh? I could sit here and just look at you all day, you know?”

Goosebumps prickled your skin and you pressed your forehead against his sternum to hide your giddy smile. Clint tugged lightly on your hair to bring you back up and chastised you, “No hiding allowed.” You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and asked, “Kiss me?” Clint obliged enthusiastically and it was a thousand times better than any kisses you’d had in the past few weeks.

The two of you kissed lazily for a few minutes before something took over Clint and he flipped your positions so were underneath of him and the kisses got more hungry and sloppy. “How do you feel about hickies?” he asked, panting.

It turned out that you felt very, very good about hickies.

~

Later that night, you blinking slowly awake in your bed with Clint wrapped all around you. Turning your head, you tried to see the time on the clock only to realize it wasn’t on. Your phone wasn’t charging anymore and the lamp wouldn’t click on either. Of course.

It took you a minute to rouse Clint, but mentioning that you were cold got him moving, bumping into the doorway with muffled curse on his way to find matches. You got to work gathering blankets and throwing on a sweatshirt so you could stay warm while you waited for the power to come back.

“Well,” Clint said with a huff once you’d reached the living room, “that’s all the candles I can find in this place. It’s either really romantic or we’re having a séance.” From your perch in the armchair, wrapped in no less than 3 blankets, you asked, “Why not both?” Clint barked out a laugh and plopped himself down on the couch.

The power outage wasn’t exactly a surprise, but couldn’t it have waited until the morning? Snow was falling in huge flakes outside, bathing the street in a quiet, sparkling glow. It would’ve been prettier if it hadn’t knocked out your heat.

You boyfriend motioned for you to come join him, but you shook your head, finally warm under all your blankets. He stuck out his lower lip and pouted, but you still didn’t give in. “C’mon baby,” he finagled, “come over here and warm me up. Please?” Begrudingly, you shuffled over and he untangled you from your blanket cocoon so you could snuggle up with your back to his chest while he carefully rearranged them to fit two people. The power might have been out, but you were definitely warmer with another body than all alone in the recliner.

“Can I ask you something?” Clint said, breaking the silence. He sounded unsure, so you asked a question in return, “About what?” After a momentary hesitation, Clint spoke, “Your ex.” He didn’t qualify or try to change the subject, so you deduced he must really want to know. “Sure,” you said, going for a casual tone, “ask away.” Your attempt at ease was taken away slightly by your body’s stiffness at the mere thought of the man you hated more than anyone in the world. But then you were being drawn closer to the warm body behind you and that spot behind your ear was being kissed ever so delicately.

You managed to take a breath and relax a little when Clint finally said, “I don’t want to make you upset, but I just want to know. Has he tried to contact you since the time he called way back when I first met you?” The question seemed odd, out of place even for Clint. You didn’t answer immediately, wracking your brain for any clue he could’ve found. Then it hit you; the box in the bathroom.

To any normal eyes, that box just looked like a run of the mill cloth storage bin. It matched the décor and it was pretty small, but it was the only thing in your bathroom with a lid on it. Earlier that evening, Clint had been rummaging in your bathroom for floss and he was in there longer than strictly necessary. You could’ve smacked yourself in the forehead for being so stupid an obvious. Of course a spy would know there was something you were hiding in there.

“You found the striped box in the bathroom, huh?”

As the weight of your question settled, you extricated yourself from Clint’s hold so you could sit facing him, but you didn’t move very far. Clint sighed and nodded so you explained yourself, “I don’t know why I’m keeping them, honestly. They just,” you scrubbed at your sleepy eyes, “he was just so in my head all the time. Sometimes he still is and I know that’s because I haven’t trashed the letters.” Your throat was getting tight and you chanced a look at Clint, who was listening intently and his eyes looked so _kind_ that you let all of your thoughts out and told him what you’d never told anyone, not even Steve and Bucky.

“For a while after I got the letters last summer, I didn’t open them. And when I finally did, they were kind of sweet. Still totally his style of manipulative sweetness, but I wasn’t far enough removed from it to understand why I liked them. It was just so familiar when everything else was so new. Even the backhanded compliments were comforting. It’s just what he conditioned me to expect, I guess. No comment was genuine or actually nice, just a way to tell me something he didn’t like about me. I used to,” you paused, wringing your hands. This was a big secret and you weren’t sure you wanted to tell it.

“I used to take them out after a really good conversation or a great day at work or whatever and read them because I felt like I had too many good things. I felt like I needed to be brought down a peg because that was ‘normal’ for me.” Clint didn’t react harshly, but he did suck in a severe breath before he composed himself. “Honestly,” you admitted, hanging your head, “I knew it wasn’t a good way to be. So I started actively avoiding reading them to kind of test how I felt without them. And after a few weeks of not looking at them, I felt better. It wasn’t as hard to accept praise and love when I didn’t look at the letters.”

“And then you came along,” you reached out gingerly and touched Clint’s knee, “and I didn’t need them at all. So I put them in the box and stashed them in the bathroom. I want to get rid of them, actually. But I kind of want to burn them. Just so I don’t have another excuse to get them out. Because I don’t want him hanging over me anymore. I want to be free of anything to do with him.”

Clint placed a hand on top of yours resting on his knee, “Then why haven’t you done it?” You hesitated, more ashamed of what you were about to admit than everything else you’d said. Closing your eyes, you whispered, “Steve and Bucky don’t know about them. And I want to tell them but I don’t want them to be disappointed or angry with me for keeping it from them. Which they have every right to be because I’m not being completely honest with them even though they’re always so great.”

Clint brought a hand to your cheek and you looked up at him, surprised at the tenderness. “They won’t be upset with you,” he promised, shaking his head when you tried to protest. “Those two would literally blow up a city for you. They’re not going to be anything but sympathetic. I promise.” You gave him a half-smile and leaned in to kiss him with as much passion and love as you could muster.

Not five minutes later, the power suddenly came back on, startling both of you into almost falling off the couch. Clint yawned and you got up to start blowing out candles. He stood up and stretched his arms up over his head and you watched his muscles flex and release and managed to stutter out, “I need to shower.” Clint looked at you quizzically, “Okay, so take a shower.” You shook yourself and tried again, “Clint, I’m trying to ask you if you want to shower with me.”

His head whipped around so fast it had to hurt. “Wait, really?” he asked, head cocked to the side in the way you found so charming. “Yeah,” you said, gesturing down the hall, “Steve and Bucky’s shower is big enough for them so I figured we should have plenty of room. If you want to.”

You blew out the last of the candles before Clint grabbed your hand and pulled you down the hall, adding as he went, “I don’t want know how you know that they shower together, but right now I don’t give a fuck.” Laughing, you broke free of Clint’s hold, pulling two towels from the hall closet while he started the shower.

Billows of wispy steam started to fill the room when you closed the door behind you and set the towels on the huge double sink. You turned and Clint was standing beside you, a suddenly serious expression on his face. He tucked your hair back again and asked, “You sure?” You nodded and that was all he needed to wrap his arms around you and kiss you.

In that moment, there was no one else in the world. It was just you, Clint, and a ridiculously large shower powered by two hot water heaters. For once, you didn’t over think everything and let it all unfold naturally. It was the most satisfying shower you’d ever had.

You’d have to remember to thank Steve for the suggestion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone be interested in a smutty one shot based on this chapter? I may have already started one...but it is definitely very NSFW. I'm willing to post it, probably as a part of the series rather than a chapter in this work so I don't have to change the rating. If any of y'all would read something like that, let me know!


	18. Cleansing Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It. Is. FINISHED.
> 
> Thank you to all of you amazing people for sticking with me through 18 chapters and leaving lovely comments and kudos and generally being amazing. It means more to me as a writer than you can imagine. I love each and every one of you and I'd hug you all if I could (and you want me to, of course). 
> 
> Enjoy!

Hey," Clint said softly, knocking on your open door. He didn't draw attention to the fact that you were sitting on the floor, hiding your face in your knees. You heard the soft thud as he sat down next to you, but he didn't say anything else until you'd caught your breath. He ducked his head to meet your gaze and nearly whispered, "Can you tell me what's wrong?" 

You tried to speak but the words caught in your throat and you had to push down tears of frustration. "Do you not want to go?" Clint asked, taking your hand in his and running his thumb across your knuckles. When you didn’t say anything, he tried again, "You don't have to go." Squeezing his hand, you finally found the words, "I want to go. But I went to put the box in my bag and I couldn't do it. I just," you swallowed hard, "it's hard to...think about finally being rid of it."

Pulling your hand free, you scrubbed your eyes, "I'm going to do it; I just panicked." Clint rubbed your back and you turned to rest your forehead against his shoulder.

"You want me to do it?" he asked after a few minutes and you shook your head. "I'll do it," you said and, with shaky hands you grabbed the box and tucked it hastily into your overnight bag. Clint pulled you back to sit with him on the bed, smiling, and said, “I’m so proud of you, baby.” Before you knew it, you were being pulled to lie down. Clint threaded his fingers through your hair and kissed you softly.

The kisses eventually turned filthier, but Clint didn’t seem inclined to move past holding you as close as possible and sucking your tongue into his mouth. _Damn_ , you thought, _this man can kiss_ , and he was such a distraction that you didn’t hear the elevator doors ding to let you know Steve and Bucky were back from sparring.

You felt like you could kiss Clint all day, all week maybe without getting tired of it, especially now that your hands were buried in Clint’s hair and his were wrapped around your waist. One of his hands glided south to your ass and squeezed it lightly and you wriggled back into his it so he’d do it again and he obliged, pulling you against him more firmly. Across the room, someone cleared their throat loudly and you jerked your head up to see Bucky staring at the two of you, mouth open, and Steve barely holding in a laugh at Bucky’s expression. Of course you’d forgotten to close the door. That’s just how your life worked.

Immediately, you rolled away from Clint and sat up, running a hand through your hair sheepishly. Clint simply laid on his back and said, “Hey guys,” with a little wave, “how was sparring?” Steve burst out a laugh and you flushed crimson before he said, “I guess we weren’t the only ones needing a workout, huh Buck?” He laughed uproariously at his own joke and jostled Bucky’s shoulder, but the latter didn’t seem amused.

“Hey, Bucky,” Clint said almost too casually, placing a hand on your lower back reassuringly. Bucky’s eyes snapped to him. “Remember last week when I was weight lifting while you and Steve were sparring without Natasha?” Bucky nodded and Clint sat up, draping an arm across your shoulders before continuing, “Did you know that afterward I went to the roof and found you and Steve continuing your workout with much less clothing?” You frowned, Steve blushed, and Bucky tensed up for a second before visibly deflating and shaking his head, “You win, Barton.”

Clint grinned and fist pumped into the air with his free hand. Steve was openly laughing again and you were trying your best not to be completely mortified. “So,” Steve started,” wiping his teary eyes, “you guys ready for the big team bonding camping trip?” He and Bucky were leaning against your door frame, filling it up and then some. You nodded and said, “Yep, just packed the last… thing.”

You wanted to bang your head against the wall. That couldn’t have been more awkward if you tried. Clint pulled away slightly to raise his eyebrows and ask, “They don’t know?” You didn’t have to answer because Steve and Bucky both stepped into the room and said in unison, “What?!”

Clint squeezed you a little in what you thought was his way of apologizing, and then kissed your cheek. He scooted off the end of the bed to make room for Steve and Bucky and said he’d be on his floor. You motioned for them to sit down and took a deep breath; you could do this. At least you were pretty sure you could.

~

You stepped out of the elevator and immediately texted Clint:

_You're not on your floor. :(_

Clint's reply came almost immediately: 

_Common floor. Did it go okay with the super dads?_

You huffed and typed out as much as he needed to know:

_It was fine. Steve almost cried._

Technically Steve had teared up and Bucky, well, he was definitely not crying but he wasn't happy. You considered a second before sending another one:

_Bucky got really angry. Steve said not at me, but he took off out of the Tower. Steve went after him a few minutes ago so he'll be safe._

You knew Steve was right and Bucky hadn't said a word to indicate any of his anger was directed at you. But it was still a bit unsettling. 

Clint:  _Whoa. That's intense. Are YOU okay?_

You:  _Kinda. Maybe 50% okay._

Clint:  _50% is not a passing grade. Come down here. Bruce is the only other person here and he's reading._

You:  _Bruce doesn't know what's going on and I don't feel like explaining it again today._

Tears pricked your eyes and you willed them away. Your phone buzzed in your hand.

Clint:  _Bruce isn't going to interrogate you. He probably won't even speak. I'm in the big armchair you like and I have cookies._

As soon as you stepped back into the elevator and the doors closed, you felt overwhelmed and run-down. There had been way too much talking about your past lately, so you leaned your head against the wall and closed your eyes. 

Clint was playing an old version of Super Mario Bros when you walked over to him and he hit pause as soon as he saw you. He scooted to the edge of the chair like he wanted to reach out and touch you, but he didn't; he waited to see what you’d do. And he didn't say a word while you climbed onto his lap and wrapped yourself around him, hooking your chin over his shoulder so your cheeks pressed together. Once you'd gotten settled, he asked, "You okay?" 

“Yeah,” you whispered, resolutely keeping your eyes shut. Clint brought his hands together around you to grasp his controller again even though it must've been an awkward stretch. The action pressed you closer to him and for a while you just sat there, feeling kind of numb and very tired. 

Eventually, Clint stopped playing and turned the tv off in favor of holding you tighter. It wasn't until he started whispering, " Shhh, it‘s okay," that you realized you were shaking. Crying was the last thing you felt like doing, but you knew you had to calm down or you'd start anyway. 

As kind as it was, you tuned out Clint's words and concentrated on the physicality of him. The pulse you could feel thumping in his neck. The huge arms that were so strong in combat but exceedingly gentle with you. The scarred fingers caressing your neck and the warm breath tickling your hair. 

You had a moment of clarity while you were sat there, being held and loved on by this man. Your life could only go up from here, with Clint. With Steve and Bucky. With all of the Avengers as the best family you weren't born into but would happily choose over and over again. 

Softly, you pressed your lips against Clint's neck before sitting back enough to see his face. “Thank you,” you said, smiling for the first time all day. Clint skimmed his hands up and down your sides before he asked, “For what?”

You leaned forward and kissed him, “For being patient with me.” Clint look amused while he nuzzled his nose against yours and said with a little wink, “Anytime. Part of the boyfriend job description.” You laughed and it turned into a yawn.

“Do you know,” Clint asked, “what the second part of the boyfriend job description is?” As he was talking, he stood up, carrying you with him. He started toward the elevator and you replied, “Nope. No idea.” He shifted his grip on you so you could wrap your legs around his waist and hang on. The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside before he answered, “Official decider of nap times.” You giggled and planted your hand on his shoulders so you could see his face, “And what does that entail for you, exactly?”

“Well,” he said, appearing thoughtful as he stepped off the elevator onto his floor, “when I see the need for a nap, I do everything in my power to get you to a bed and sleeping.” He was still walking as he explained this to you and the ease with which he carried you was definitely turning you on a little. Clint didn’t have a serum, your brain reminded you, he was just _that_ strong.

You couldn’t see of course where the pair of you were headed, but you had an idea when he asked Jarvis to turn the temperature down a few degrees and turn off the lights. “When is the next boyfriend-designated nap time?” you asked around another yawn. “Right…now!” Clint exclaimed as he dropped you into the middle of his bed with a soft woosh as the sheets billowed around you on impact.

Clint was hovering over you when you looked up, smiling at you so softly and affectionately that your heart did a little flip in your chest. You opened your arms and reached up to him and he let himself fall down on top of you, careful to keep from actually crushing you, but still pinning you to the mattress. His arm was the only part of him you could reach, so you kissed it and whispered, “I love you,” and repeated it while you peppered his arm with kisses.

Clint adjusted his cuddle position until he was pressed up against your side, with that same arm still holding you in place. His thumb stroked across your cheek and all he said was, “Sleep,” before you were out.

~

The reddish-blue flames of the fire crackled loudly in the almost eerie silence of the campground. It was almost midnight and, once Tony, Pepper, Natasha, and Bruce had headed off to their respective tents, you grabbed the box out of your bag and looked around at the faces by the fire.

Steve’s jaw was tight and he paced a little, stoking the fire and pushing around the logs to make the flames jump higher. When he noticed you looking at him, he winked and went back to his seat next to Bucky, who was surprisingly calm. He was just watching Steve flit around with his arms folded and his eyes fond. The split in his lip was almost gone and he outright refused to tell you where he got it. Clint didn’t appear to be paying attention to Steve or Bucky, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring into the flames like they had answers to whatever he was mulling over in his mind. A twig snapped under your feet and the three men turned to look at you with varying degrees of worry and sadness.

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you walked up to them so you were standing in between Clint and Bucky. Clint’s hand found yours and squeezed it reassuringly and Bucky patted the box and asked, “You ready?” You nodded and released Clint’s hand so you could step a little closer. “Take your time,” Steve reminded you softly and it made you stop and collect yourself for a second. After a moment’s hesitation, you took a step back and tossed the box right into the middle of the fire.

Four pairs of eyes watched as the box’s edges curled in on themselves and the distinct smell of burning paper and ink wafted through the air as all of your ex’s letters burned to ashes. All the clichés turned out to be true, the fire was cathartic. You felt a little lighter and you rolled your shoulders before you turned around and were met with a shaky, teary smile from Steve, a nod and a small smile from Bucky, and a beaming grin from Clint like you’d just won an Olympic medal or a Nobel prize.

A split-second later, Steve was up and hugging you, crying a little and saying he loved you and even though it was hard to breathe, you didn’t mind. Bucky pulled him off of you and cupped your face in his hands, the metal a little warmer for a change. He looked into your eyes and said solemnly, “You won, darlin’. You beat him. You’re so strong and I couldn’t be more proud.” He kissed your forehead and held onto the back of your head while you embraced him, taking a minute to close your eyes and be so, so thankful for him and Steve.

When he pulled back, Steve was suddenly there and they looked at each other mischievously before turning to you and pressing loud, smacking kisses on your cheeks while simultaneously trapping you between them. You shrieked and giggled, and they relented, both grinning as they walked back to their tent and bid Clint goodnight.

Clint got up and came to stand next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Hey,” he whispered and you looked at him, “you’re a badass, you know that?” Shaking your head, you laughed as quietly as you could and turned to look at his face. “You are,” he insisted, “superpowers and weapons be damned, that was courage if I’ve ever seen it.” Kissing him in that moment felt like something slotted into place, like your life was exactly how it should be.

Laying in your tent a few minutes later with your head resting on Clint’s chest, his fingers traced lazily up and down your spine and his breathing slowed down until you were sure he was asleep. But right before you drifted off, he said, “I love you, beautiful,” and pulled you as close as he could. You nuzzled into his neck and whispered into his skin, “Love you, too,” before drifting off, calm and content.


End file.
